


Trust and Betrayal

by simplyawriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Affection, Agent Barton - Freeform, Agent Carter - Freeform, Agent Hill - Freeform, Agent Romanov - Freeform, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Betrayal, Blood, Broken Hearts, Broken Promises, Captain America - Freeform, Confessions, Cross Bones, Cuddling, Cursing/Swearing, Danger, Denial, Director Fury - Freeform, Drama, Endless love - Freeform, Eventual Sex, Ex-Hydra!Reader, F/M, Fear, Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy Moments, Friendship, Frustration, Good Intentions, Guilt, Hatred, Hawkeye - Freeform, Heartbreak, Hidden Feelings, Hope, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra, Injury, Iron Man - Freeform, Jealousy, Lies, Love, Missed Chances, Mixed Emotions, More Fluff, Multi, Pain, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recklessness, Regret, Romance, Rough past, S.H.I.E.L.D - Freeform, Sarcasm, Sass, Scoulding, Secrets, Self-Hatred, Self-Loathing, Severed Ties, Sexual Tension, Stolen Glances, Teasing, Tension, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Trust, Trust Issues, Violence, bad habits, blackwidow, falcon - Freeform, happiness, implied sex, interrogating, much fluff, relationships, slowly falling in love, the hulk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 80,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyawriter/pseuds/simplyawriter
Summary: After S.H.I.E.L.D fell, taking HYDRA with it, you finally managed to escape the grasp of Brock Rumlow. Unable to escape your past, you decide to track down and eliminate any remaining HYDRA agents. However, Steve Rogers has the same idea and recruits you to work with him and his team instead. Things get a little complicated when you find yourself hiding Bucky from Steve and despite your best efforts to distance yourself from the team, Steve pulls you in and begins to piece together your broken heart. But bad things always happen to good people and before long a new threat emerges, forcing you to play a dangerous game of Trust and Betrayal. One that's going to change everything.





	1. I'm Not A Hero

Your eyes open slowly, the white ceiling above staring dully back at you. You're not even sure if you slept at all last night but you know staying in bed is not an option. Glancing out the window to your left you see the fresh raindrops of a morning shower on the outside of the glass. It almost feels like this summer has had more rain than spring. 

The haziness of your brain begins to fade away and your thoughts finally begin to gather as you sit up in your bed. Slowly you get out of bed and drag your feet across the carpet until you reach the cold tile of your bathroom to the right. You splash your face with cold water to wake up a bit and dry it with a white fluffy towel as you look up in the mirror. Your reflection seems to be looking better every day. And as each day passes by you begin to realize how much you have changed. 

It seems like only yesterday you had been lost in a void of your own insanity that you couldn't escape. 

 Running your thumb over your lips, you notice they are no longer cracked and are beginning to regain their shape and color. But your thoughts are interrupted when you feel a sudden breeze enter the bathroom from outside. 

The smell of rain and wet city streets fills your senses, causing you to look outside your bathroom door. 

The window by your bed is open. 

As multiple thoughts run through your head, you slowly step out of the bathroom and stand in its doorway. Not only is the window open, but there are wet footprints leading down the carpeted stairs to the main living area. It's only been about a minute or so since the intruder entered. And just as your about to reach for the gun in the nightstand by your bed-

"Now, shoot me if I'm wrong but, you do like waffles, don't you?"

The voice from downstairs echoes through your mind and you immediately recoil your hand from the nightstand. 

The voice you heard is unmistakable. And to be honest, you're more surprised about his question than you are about him breaking in. Despite the sinking feeling in your stomach and the slight ache in your heart, you begin to walk down the steps.

"I thought you gave up looking for me." You say quietly, folding your arms over your chest as you reach the last step.

"I never gave up."

His voice sounds so hurt by your words you almost regret saying them. But you don't. "You should have."

Clint stands unmoving behind the bar of your kitchen, his cool and collected expression unchanging, but his eyes full compassion. Clint was the one that pulled you out of your insanity. He was the one that made you feel human again. And you can never thank him enough for that, but you wish he had stopped looking for you. Because now he has found you. 

And it's clear he's not hear to rekindle the flame of your friendship. 

"What do you want, Barton?" 

Although it seems Clint is bothered by the fact that you called him by his last name, he manages to smile at you. He then walks around the counter and reveals himself. You hadn't noticed it before, but he's wearing...an apron. 

"I want you to take a seat and let me make you breakfast." He says before turning his back on you to continue his cooking. "So, where do you keep the cutting boards? Down here? Over there? By the fridge?"

"Over there."

"Sweet."

As Clint moves around the kitchen, cutting fruit, stirring the waffle batter, making a mess, you notice how shaky he is. His every movement seems uneasy and his stature is stiff. You're not exactly sure why but you have a pretty good idea...

"Barton?" 

Clint stiffens, keeping his back turned to you. "Yeah?" 

"What are you doing here?"

He sets a second waffle on the plate meant for you and finally stops what he's doing. Turning around Clint carefully takes off his apron and sets it on the counter. He picks up your plate and sets in down on the counter, but you refuse to sit down. If it's taken two years for Clint to track you down, he is obviously not the one who found you. Someone else did. 

Clint sighs and rubs the back of his neck, hesitant to respond. After a moment of silence, he looks down at the end of the counter. Turning your head, you follow his eyes and spot a file full of papers, stamped with the title **HYDRA**.

Reaching over you take the file and stare at the black letters silently. It's funny how these small letters can bring so many painful memories back to you. Clint gently puts his hand over the file and gently pushes it down to rest on the counter. You let go of the folder and look up at him. "What is this? Why are you showing me this?"

"This is the only lead we have of the remaining HYDRA agents right now. One file; four pages." Clint tells you, dropping his voice as he opens the folder. "Three of those pages are names and the last page is HYDRA base locations."

"Who is we?" You ask before saying anything else. 

"The Captain and his associate Sam Wilson alongside Natasha and I."

"But you're working for S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"No," Clint says honestly, resting his arms on the counter as he leans forward. "I'm an Avenger. I work for Cap. For the world, if anyone. Unfortunately, Dr. Banner and Stark are kind of doing their own thing at the moment. So they aren't a part of our "avenge S.H.I.E.L.D" squad." There's a hint of amusement in his voice as he says this. 

"You still haven't told me why you're here or why you're telling me all of this?"

Clint looks you in the eyes. "We need you."

This is something you thought you would never hear. The heroes need you, a mercenary? An ex-HYDRA agent?

"Why?" You ask sharply, narrowing your eyes as you look at him. 

Clint hesitates to reply. He swallows thickly and chooses his words carefully as he says, "I know you don't like being reminded of your past as HYDRA, but you used to be one of them. You're our best chance at destroying HYDRA once and for all. You know every face and file and base better than any of us. And I _trust_ you, (Y/n)." He slowly closes the file. 

"I know it's a lot to ask, but we need you. The world needs you."

"I'm not a hero, Clint." You tell him suddenly, shaking your head. "I never will be."

Clint's eyes soften as he looks at you. "Maybe the world doesn't need a hero. Maybe they just need a good person."

Turning your head you cast your gaze to the ground. You want to believe him. You want to believe him so badly but you know that you will never be able to wash off the blood on your hands. The past may be in the past, but if it weren't for you, innocent people would be living to see their future. And you took that from them. They didn't deserve to die. _You did._

"I can't," You whisper emotionlessly. "Find someone else."

Clint's heart aches for you. He clenches his fist, grasping the file in his right hand tightly. He wishes he could make up for all the time you spent without him. For all the time you spent hating yourself. But he just can't. 

Offering a weak smile, Clint sets the file on the counter and steps away slowly. "Do you trust me?" He asks. 

"Yes..." You reply without missing a beat. 

"Then please consider my offer," he says softly as he begins to head for the door. "If not for me then...for yourself." 

Clint opens the door to your apartment and steps out into the doorway, his back facing you as he prepares to close the door. "Tomorrow we're meeting in an abandoned HYDRA base outside of town. I left the location details on a sticky note inside the file. 7:00 AM..." He begins to close the door, but before he can, you find yourself calling out to him. 

"Hey," Clint looks over his shoulder and looks through the crack at you. "Thanks for breakfast."

He smiles back at you, the most sincere smile you've seen from him today. "'Course."

And then just like that, he's gone. You'd be lying if you said deep down you didn't feel the pain of watching him leave. But at the same time, you want him to go and never look back. But...you do trust him. Just, not as much as you should.

The only person you have ever truly trusted is Barnes. But he decided he was better off without you...

Shaking the memories of your time with James and the pain of him abandoning you, your attention settles on the perfectly golden waffles sitting on the plate in front of you, assorted with strawberries and kiwis, sprinkled with chocolate chips, topped with whip cream. You smile despite feeling bitter and sigh as you sit at the counter, digging into your breakfast. Your eyes, however, wander towards the file beside you, causing your thoughts to turn and wonder, "What if?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been planning to write this a couple years now, and I've attempted before but it has never really been what I've wanted. But now I fully believe this is going to be pretty damn close to what I have always wanted it to be. Hope you enjoy~
> 
> Updates will come when they come, lovelies


	2. Tension

"This isn't a good idea, Steve."

Glancing up from the map he has been studying for the past few minutes, Steve meets eyes with Natasha. She stands with her arms crossed to the right of him at the table. "It's the best one we've got," he replies quietly, "We need her."

"You don't know what she's like," Natasha says as she shakes her head, "There's no telling what will happen if we let her-"

"No," Clint cuts her off harshly, "We are  _not_  taking away her freedom. She doesn't deserve to be chained up."

Natasha heaves a sigh and lets her arms drop to her sides as she glances at Clint, who stands beside her on the right. There's a hint of guilt in her eyes as she looks at him but she doesn't plan to take back her words. The two then look back at Steve, waiting for him to end the conversation once and for all. Steve looks to Clint. "You have to trust me, Cap."

Just as Steve is about to respond, the door to the room they're currently in creaks open. 

You emerge from the shadow of the doorway, careful of every step you take as if you're walking through a mine field. And it's not that you're afraid of setting one off. You're afraid of what they might do to you if that happens. 

You come to a stop a few feet away from the door, attentive but stiff, wary but calm. The first person you meet eyes with is Clint, which gives you a sense of comfort, but your eyes quickly find Natasha Romanov. You crossed paths with her the same way you crossed paths with Clint. She was sent to kill you. But unlike him, she actually tried to go through with it. 

The next person you notice is the man you saw a few times during the events in D.C. when S.H.I.E.L.D fell, taking HYDRA along with it. You assume he's Sam Wilson, the person Clint mentioned yesterday when he visited you. You give him a good once over before turning your attention to the last person in the room. A tall man with a fair head of blonde hair, standing with his back facing you. Already there's a familiarity about him that makes you curious. Until finally he turns around. 

You recognize him immediately. 

The intensity of Steve's eyes causes your breath to catch in your throat. The other faces in the room fade as you gaze at him, expression unchanging, eyes full of wonder. He seems to notice the twinkle in your eyes as you look at him, his lips parting slowly as if he lost the words that were supposed to come out. You only hope he doesn't remember you. 

There's a certain glint in his blue orbs that makes you uneasy and you can't tell if it's a glint of curiosity or a glint of recognition. Both are bad, but if it's one of recognition, things are going to get a lot more complicated for you. 

"So, if everybody would like to stop being assholes now," Clint speaks up loudly to break the silence, looking at each one of his team mates, "I'd like to introduce the newest recruit." You finally break eye contact with Steve and meet eyes with Barton as he walks around the table towards you. "You're late," he says with a crooked smile. 

You roll your eyes and manage a small smile back. "Only by 3 minutes."

He motions for you to follow him back to the table. "You're here. That's all that matters."

You take your place at the other end of the table across from Steve and Clint begins to speak again. "Listen up, punks," he says as he eyes Sam, Steve, and Natasha. "I'm not taking anyone's bullshit. So play nice."

"I think that should be more directed towards her," Natasha remarks.

You smirk at her comment but know it's best if you don't reply. Bringing your gaze back to Steve, you finally decide to speak up, finding yourself slowly wasting time as you stand at the end of the table like an outcast. 

"So did we all come here to stand around or are we going to discuss what's going to happen."

Sam clears his throat, "Right. We're...grateful for your assistance." 

"That's nice," you reply dryly, not caring for his gratitude, "But it's not an answer to my question." Deciding to get to work straight away, you drop the file that Clint lent you on the table. "Not to mention your job just got a lot easier."

Natasha arches an eyebrow at you. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You open the folder to reveal the pages and look up at Steve, although hesitant to meet his eyes. When you have his attention you glance at the red marker beside him. He follows your line of sight and then picks up the marker, tossing it across the table towards you. Catching it with ease, you use your thumb to flip off the cap and look back at the file. 

"I've taken out at least half of the people on this list."

"Impressive," Sam says with a thoughtful gaze as he looks at you.

 

"I will help you take down HYDRA," You say firmly, "I respect your boundaries and your rules. But I can assure you. If you're going to hold Clint accountable for my every mistake, I will not help you." 

Steve meets your gaze once more but you turn away and look back down at the file in front of you, continuing to cross off names. Clint can't help the small forming on his lips. You and Clint both know he can fight his own battles. But when you stand up for him like you did just now, it gives him the hope that you still care about him. 

"I encountered some HYDRA agents the other night that spilled about a HYDRA base in Colorado," you say softly, carefully bringing the conversation back. "It's fully operated. Lots of files, lots of agents. Bustling with life."

Sam mutters under his breath, "You weren't kidding when you said she was the best." He glances over at Clint. 

"I'm not the best," you argue quietly, keeping your eyes on the list of names. "I'm no higher than any of you."

"How humble of you," Natasha says sarcastically. 

You ignore her remark and look up, once more locking eyes with Steve. "Why the hell isn't the Winter Soldier on the top of this list?" You ask as you slowly begin to close the folder. The room once more falls into silence.

Great. How could you have possibly upset them this time?

"The Winter Soldier is none of your concern," Steve replies in a hushed but firm voice. 

You notice his fists clenched tightly, his sad blue eyes giving away how he's really feeling. You slowly reach out to grab another sheet of paper on the table to write down more names for the list. 

So it was true.

Steve and the Winter Soldier were friends before the ice. You don't know much about their relationship, or what happened to Barnes that ended up separating him and Steve, but you do know Bucky. Or you did at least...

"We're focusing on HYDRA," Sam says, breaking the silence. "You said...there was a fully operating base in Colorado. We'll talk to Stark and see what we can find. But besides that...there's an abandoned hospital downtown where a former HYDRA agent is being picked up to be taken to another HYDRA base." He slides a large map down to you.

"See the black circle? That's the location," Clint pipes up, "We're meeting at 11 tomorrow."

You look up from the map and nod. "How many agents?"

As the conversation wears on and the five of you continue to go over the files, names, and bases, the day grows heavy. Steve goes over the rules with you, and you simply roll your eyes. Natasha explains future missions while Clint tells of some in the past, and Sam contributes to the conversation every now and then, but you're pretty sure he's not an Avenger. After a while, the meeting finally comes to a close and Sam and Steve head out on a solo mission for the day.

This leaves you with Natasha and Clint.

After memorizing everything in the file and creating more files and profiles, you finally decide it best to head for your apartment. Clint and Natasha had left the room earlier, but you are surprised to hear them arguing outside when you open the door to the warehouse. They're arguing about you, of course. But you pay no mind to their words. 

Clint drives you home when you tell him you rode in a cab. It's raining when you get out. 

"Thanks," he says before you can close your car door. 

"For what?" You ask, looking back at him with confusion in your eyes. 

"For doing this. For helping us."

You force a small smile and refrain from saying anything. You close his car door and give him a slight wave as he drives away. But once his car leaves, your smile falls. It sucks being the enemy. It kills you to know that every single one of the team looks at you like you're an animal that needs to be caged up. Like they're afraid of you. _It sucks._

Feeling drained from the day and all the arguing, you drag your feet across the wet sidewalk and walk up the steps to your apartment door. But you can't bring yourself to open the door. You feel too drained to take another step.

 _You can do this_ , you tell yourself.  _You can do this. Stay strong. Don't let them know you're breakable._

_Don't let them know they're breaking you._

You finally manage to unlock the door and step inside. Without caring about the puddles of rain water collecting at the door, you slowly begin to take off your arsenal. Starting with your utility belt, next with your guns, your knives, and your combat boots. You slip off the leather jacket you had been wearing and carry it up the steps to your room. 

You set the jacket on the coat rack by your dresser and hurriedly start a shower, desperate to feel the warmth of hot water on your cool, moist skin. You slip off your socks and then your pants, ready to strip yourself of your shirt when suddenly-

**Knock knock knock knock.**

With a sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror. Maybe they'll go away. You pause for a moment.

**Knock knock knock.**

"You have got to be kidding me..." You murmur as you push open the bathroom door and step out of the bathroom, towel in hand. You hurriedly begin to dry your hair with the towel as you rush down the stairs and head for the door. Carelessly tossing the towel on the counter, you come to a halt in front of the door. "Aw, come on..." You sigh.

There's a rather large puddle in front of the door. Not wanting to slip or get your feet wet, you reach over the puddle and grab the door knob. But you immediately regret the decision you made when you chose to answer the door with no pants.

"(Y/n)," Steve utters your name as you open the door. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, your heart nearly dropping. With flushed cheeks, you swiftly try and shut the door, but Steve notices and acts faster than you do, sliding his foot between the door and its frame. 

"Wait!" He cries anxiously, "Don't close the door, I want to talk..."

"Well, I don't...or can't at the moment."

Steve tilts his head, looking at you through the crack. "Please?"

You look up from the puddle below you and meet Steve's gaze, finding yourself lost in those beautiful blue eyes of his. For a moment you think about letting him in to talk, but you quickly shake the thoughts. "Rogers-"

You begin to speak when your grip on the door knob suddenly slips. While struggling to cling onto the knob and keep your weight on the door, you find yourself falling. With a quiet cry you slip and land in the puddle you tried so hard to avoid. "(Y/n)?" Steve says you name quizzically as he pushes the door open. You look up abruptly. 

"Wait! No, I'm fine!" You exclaim, attempting to stand up again, "Don't come in!"

You fall forward once more, finding yourself in the arms of Steve, who lets out a breath of relief when he catches you, only to have his own feet slip. As Steve falls backward and you fall into his chest, the door closes behind you and Steve hits the floor.


	3. The Winter Soldier

Steve lets out a quiet groan as he raises his hand to his head. You slide your hands to his chest and push yourself off of him, sitting on his waist. "The hero saves the day," you say sarcastically as you glare down at him. 

He chuckles lightly at your comment and offers a smile, the first one you've seen from him. "Sorry. That was my fault."

"Yes," you confirm, "Yes it was." 

You sigh quietly, pulling the hair falling in front of your face behind your ears as you sit up straight. When you hear Steve beginning to stumble over his words, you look back down at him to see what's wrong, curiously peering at his flustered face as he looks away. You shift on top of him and realize you're not only straddling him, but you have no pants on. 

"What part of 'don't come in' did you not understand?" You ask, sighing irritably as you get off of him. 

Steve clears his throat and stands up as well, his eyes anywhere but you. "I'm s-"

"Don't apologize," You cut him off swiftly, pulling your shirt past your hips as you glare at him. "Just-...Wait here. Let me put on some dry clothes, and then you can talk." Turning your back on Steve you make your way to the stairs, internally groaning that you're going to have to spend the next few minutes talking in the cold of your apartment instead of taking a shower. 

Once you disappear up the stairs, Steve takes his time to look around your apartment. It's rather large for one person. There's a rectangular bar surrounding the kitchen with stained cabinets and a steel fridge, a couch not far behind the bar stools in the kitchen with just enough space for two people to walk through. In front of the couch is a glass coffee table, a white carpet, and a brick fireplace. The stairs, he assumes, lead to another living area which connects to your room. And last but not least, the windows of your apartment are large and cover quite a bit of the wall by the stairs. It's a rather beautiful apartment.

Feeling awkward standing by the door, Steve decides to take the towel from the counter and clean up the water on the hard wood floor before it sinks into the wood. A few minutes later you head back down the steps and keep your place at the bottom of the stairs, watching as he cleans up the mess. "You don't have to do that," You tell him quietly. 

Steve glances at you from his place on the floor, bent down on one knee. "I don't mind."

A smirk tugs at your lips but disappears soon after it appears. You honestly don't know what Steve wants. It must be important if he couldn't wait until tomorrow's mission to talk to you about it.

"So," You trail off as you cross your arms over your chest, "What do you want?"

Steve's figure seems to change as he stands to his feet. He sets the towel aside on the counter and turns his full attention to you, eyes locking with yours. He looks stiff and serious, his hands in loose fists. "Earlier today you asked about the Winter Soldier," Steve says, taking a couple steps towards you, "You know him, don't you?"

Your heart sinks. This was one the one thing you had hoped Steve would never ask. The last thing you want to do is lie to him and the team, but if Steve finds out that you used to work side by side with the Winter Soldier, there's the high possibility of him using you to get to Bucky...and the one thing you promised Bucky was that you wouldn't look for him. You keep your facade and look away for a split second before returning your gaze to him. You're going to have to blur the truth a little.

"Of course I know who the Winter Soldier is," You say after a moment's pause, "He was HYDRA's favorite puppet."

Pain flashes in Steve's eyes and you silently regret having not used better words. "Did you work with him?" He asks.

"On the sidelines," You lie smoothly. "Look, I don't know what you want me to say. If you're looking for information on where he might be you're asking the wrong person. I haven't seen him since D.C.."

Steve's expression changes to one of curiosity. "D.C.? You were there?"

"Yeah..." You mumble softly, looking back at the ground. It's funny, really.

Steve doesn't even remember your face but you remember his. You were there on the very same helicarrier he was when Bucky beat him until he couldn't anymore. It's probably for the best that he doesn't remember. After all, you were with Bucky when he pulled Steve out of the water. You were the one that called an ambulance for him and waited until help arrived.

You bring yourself to presently look at Steve again.

What you remember most was kneeling beside him when you checked to make sure he was breathing- when you placed your ear against his chest and heard his heartbeat, steady and strong. At the time you weren't sure why you felt envious of his heartbeat, but now, as you gaze into his calming blue eyes, you realize it was- and still is because your heart is broken. Stained and scarred, marked by the hatred of HYDRA, your heart skips beats and remains in shattered pieces.

The tension in the room is thickening, the silence surrounding you beginning to grow loud. You'd like to speak up, but you can't bring yourself to find the right words. So you turn away from him and look out the windows of your apartment. 

Steve sighs quietly behind you. "Please. If you have even the faintest idea of where he might be..."

"The Winter Soldier disappeared a long time ago," You say coldly as you regain your strength, shaking the pain of your heavy heart as you turn around to face him. "And if you're smart, you'll stop looking for him."

Steve's eyes sharpen as he fixes his gaze on you. "Is that a threat?" He asks in a low voice, hushed but firm. 

"I'm just saying..." you trail off, instinctively taking a few unnoticeable steps backward, "It's dangerous to be looking for the Winter Soldier. I understand that he's your best friend, but you're putting his life- as well as yours at risk looking for him. He doesn't want to be found, Rogers. For good reasons too." Steve takes another step towards you. Your back hits the wall.

"How do you know he doesn't want to be found?"

"Open your eyes, Rogers," You breathe out, "If he wanted saving don't you think you would have found him by now?"

Steve suddenly stills, his fists clenching. Relief washes over you when he takes a small step back, his eyes finding the floor. Your words seem to reach his understanding and the tension in the room subsides along with Steve's rising frustration. He notices the distance between you two and your place against the wall, his features softening as he looks back at you with apologetic eyes. "(Y/n)..." Steve says your name quietly but your cold glare warns him not to say anything else.

"I can't help you, Rogers," You tell him quietly. "So please.  _Leave_."

You wish your voice hadn't sounded so quiet, like a plea more than a command, but it seems that Steve understands your vulnerability more than your discontent and cold words. His lips part, standing in the still silence of your presence as the dangerous glint in your eyes visibly tells him to keep his mouth shut and simply leave. 

There's a part of him that wants to stay but Steve raises his shoulders and takes a deep breath as he falls back. His eyes never once leave yours. "Okay," You hear him say under his breath. Steve turns his back on you and makes his way to the door without another word. You finally relax and move your aching feet, feeling your body unstiffen as he reaches for the doorknob. Distress is relieved from your system and you watch Steve closely as he opens the door to leave, but stops. 

"Goodbye, (Y/n)," He says suddenly, his voice sending a chilling shiver up your spine. The door closes and the darkness of the apartment lightens, a breath you didn't know you were holding escaping you. He's finally gone.

Tired from the day and relieved that Steve believed your little white lies, you drag your feet across the hard wood floor towards the stairs and begin the climb up to your bedroom. Your thoughts are in a tangled mess, your emotions not fully sorted out, remaining mixed. You still feel heavy hearted and although Steve is gone, you still feel threatened. 

As you take off your clothes and leave them scattered on the floor of your bedroom you head for your bathroom and once more start another hot shower. You had needed to clear your head before Steve even showed up, but after his visit, you feel as if a large weight has been set upon your shoulders. You do feel bad for lying. And if he finds out that you lied, you're going to be in serious trouble. Not to mention your promise to Bucky would be compromised. 

Your chest rises and falls with every shallow breath you take, your eyes not focused on anything particular in the shower as the hot water falls around you and your forehead lies pressed against the wall.  _Things are getting complicated_


	4. Welcome to the Team

It's 10:32 AM. 

Clint is waiting outside your apartment while you change and gear up for the mission. You still haven't had breakfast but you're almost positive Clint has a bag full of goodies waiting in the car for you. He likes to spoil you, and you like to be spoiled. Just thinking of sitting in the car with Clint, bonding over french toast sticks, makes you smile.

After Steve's unexpected visit last night, you're not too excited to see him but you know it's better to push forward and not linger in the past. He doesn't know about your true relationship with Bucky and that's all that matters. And from what you've read in the file Clint gave you the other day, any files that might reveal your relationship with Bucky are missing. And besides Steve, you're not too excited to see Natasha either. However, Sam Wilson seems like a fun character...

You lock the door to your apartment building and turn around to face the new day. Clint's car waits for you on the side of the road and you saunter over towards it, opening the passenger side door. You slide into your seat and close the door promptly, turning to face Clint with bright eyes. "French toast sticks?" You ask in the softest voice. 

Clint holds a brown paper back in the air before dramatically looking over at you. "French toast sticks."

His expression is completely serious and the sunglasses he's wearing tops it off. You manage a small smile and take the bag from him, "So what are we looking at?" You ask as the car takes off onto the highway. 

"Natasha says three black SUV's are taking nearby routes to the hospital," Clint begins to hash out the details, "We're assuming our target is in one of those vehicles, but if he isn't, we're going to have someone on the street that connects all three routes, the only other way to the hospital." You nod your head, pulling a french toast stick out of the bag. 

Clint immediately notices this and snags your wrist before you're able to sink your teeth into the breakfast treat. 

"No eating in my car."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Your eyebrows furrow and you try your best not to sulk as you slowly put the french toast stick back. You look away from Clint and hold the bag closer towards you in your lap, feeling the warmth of the food through the thin layer of paper separating you from your breakfast. Clint chuckles. "Stop pouting. You can wait a couple minutes to eat."

"Fine," you mutter quietly, pouting in your seat as you look out the window. 

"You're just as bad as the kids," Clint comments in his amusement. 

"Am not."

Clint chuckles once more and the car falls into silence soon after. Ignoring the urge to eat the food in your lap, you turn your head and look at Clint with true sincerity in your eyes as you ask, "How are they doing? Laura and the kids?"

"They're good," he sighs contently, "But uh, you and Natasha are the only two that know about them so..."

"Right," You nod in understanding. "No mentions of them."

When you finally reach the downtown area, a quiet part of the city that looks rather rugged, Clint parks the car on the side of the street where you see Natasha, Steve, and Sam waiting patiently on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. Your focus is the mission, but at the same time, you can't help but not care about what's about to happen as you step out of the car, a french toast stick in hand. "Morning," Clint calls to the others as the two of you walk towards them casually. 

"Clint," Steve greets with a nod. He then looks at you. "(Y/n)."

There's something unreadable in Steve's eyes as he looks at you but you brush it off and nod curtly, averting your gaze as you turn your attention to Sam. You give him a quick wink, knowing he hasn't fully adjusted to your presence yet and still seems to find you intimidating. Sam merely shuffles his feet, holding back a smirk. 

"Alright," Steve speaks up, finally tearing his eyes away from you, "There are five surrounding streets, which means there are two exits and three streets that lead to the hospital. It's already almost 11:00, so by the time everyone is in their positions, the three SUV's should be making their way down those three streets." He looks at Clint and Natasha, "Clint, take the farthest street. Natasha, the one closet." He then looks at Sam. "Think you can handle the crossroad in between?" Sam nods.

"(Y/n) and I will stay here on the road that connects to the two exits in case they take a detour. I want your earpieces in at all times. And most importantly, stay focused. The target is a red haired Caucasian with a tattoo of a lion on his left wrist. Anyone else is of lesser importance." Steve's orders come to a close, the others beginning to take action.

You glance at Clint, frustrated that you're stuck with Steve. "Question," you clip out, turning your attention to Steve as the others leave in their cars. "Why don't I have my own quadrant? I think I'm perfectly capable of handling a street alone."

Steve makes sure his shield, which is attached to his motorcycle, is within easy access. "You're starting on a lower level."

"So, what? You're just going to babysit me?" You ask, arching an eyebrow at him. 

"Yep," he replies bluntly, "Welcome to the team."

You narrow your eyes and avert your gaze. You should have guessed this was going to happen. It's only been a day since you met him and the team, so of course they aren't gonna let you run off on your own. Already you know you're not going to get along with Steve. After last nights events, you're wary of him. And besides that just listening to him talk and scold you all the time gives you a head ache. But you know arguing with him will not make things better. 

Feeling bitter, you reach down into the bag in your hand and pull out a french toast stick, silently munching on it as you glare off into the distance. Steve notices your silence and peers over at your pouting face. Then suddenly he laughs. 

The unrestrained laughter that escapes his lips captivates you.

Never before have you heard such a beautiful sound, enthralled by true delight. His smile almost looks blissful, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he stares at you. For a moment you're confused, not only by his laughter but by the way it tugs at your heart strings. You gaze back at him in utter confusion, lowering the french toast stick from your lips. 

"What?" You question him once his laughter subsides. "What is it? Why are you laughing?"

Steve merely smiles at you, his expression one of wonder and awe. He raises his hand to his face and taps on the corner of his mouth with his index finger. Your eyes widen slightly and you realize he's laughing at the crumbs on your face from the french toast sticks. Seemingly flustered, you gently begin to brush the cinnamon and sugar crumbs from your cheeks.

While you clean your face, Steve continues to stare at you. To him, it almost seems impossible that you are a highly trained assassin. Your facial features are smooth, your eyes bright despite the light they lack, and your hands are so small compared to his, careful with everything they touch as if you're afraid you'll destroy it. It seems impossible that you, a curious woman that pouts while eating french toast sticks, is the same woman who is known to be a cold hearted killer. 

 _"I'm in position,"_  Natasha's voice suddenly carries through Steve's ear piece. 

Snapping back to reality, determined to focus on the mission, Steve tears his eyes away from you and looks at the street, watching for any suspicious movements. "Good," he says, glancing back at you one last time, "Sam, Clint?"

 _"In position,"_   Sam responds. 

 _"Ditto,"_  Clint says soon after. 

"Alright, one minute til 11, everyone be alert," Steve replies, motioning for you to follow him as he begins to walk down the sidewalk. You do your best to keep Steve's pace as you walk beside him, keeping your eyes peeled for the target. 

It's been a long time since you've worked beside someone. After S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Bucky left in hopes of keeping HYDRA away from you. After that, you were left alone. Which at the time had been your greatest fear. You didn't know how to live without someone else's guidance. You were left broken until Clint pulled you from your own ruins. And the day you left Clint and his farm was the day you finally accepted your fate and over came your fear of being alone. Because you realized you were better off alone. 

Because when you're alone, the only person that gets hurt is you. 

 _"There's a black SUV on my street,"_  You hear through your ear piece and the echo of Steve's. It's Natasha.

 _"SUV on mine as well. I'm in pursuit."_ Clint's voice sounds next. 

 _"Same here,"_ Sam says. 

Steve begins to speak, but you can't hear his words. Your eyes are trained on a man that fits the description Steve gave. The man is leaving a bar on the other side of the street, a tattoo visible on his left wrist. So Steve had the right idea assuming that the three cars were simple distractions in case anyone followed. You gently grab a hold of Steve's arm. 

"Target acquired," you say under your breath, continuing to walk as you keep your eyes ahead of you. Steve's eyebrows furrow. "To your left, just exiting the bar." You tell him. He nods curtly when he spots the target. 

"Nice work," Steve praises you dully, "Time for a plan."

"I have a plan. I'm going to pursue him-"

Just as you make the move to cross the street inconspicuously, Steve's hand finds your arm. He spins you around swiftly, keeping you close to him so you hear his voice. "Are you insane? There are civilians around."

"Look, Rogers," You hiss quietly, eyes darkening as you look at him. "There's me, and there's my target. I don't see anyone else." You pull your arm away from him and turn away to look at your target, only to find him running down the street towards the abandoned hospital that awaits reconstruction. "Shit," you curse, taking off into a run. 

"(Y/n)!" Steve shouts, darting forward to stop you but stopping himself when he realizes you're not listening. He quickly turns back the other way and snags his shield off of his motorcycle, placing it on his back as he chases after you. 

"(Y/n), wait!" You hear Steve yell from behind. You ignore him and continue running without looking back. You cross the street from your sidewalk to get to the other, running out in front of a car. The car nearly misses you and Steve is forced to stop momentarily, "We need a plan!" He shouts and then follows after you once more. "I have a plan!" You shout back. 

"Pursue the target! Don't let them escape!" The words fall from your lips instinctively.

Pursue the target. Don't let them escape. The phrase is familiar and bone chilling. Those are the exact words you used to say to Brock Rumlow before every mission. The words that he spoke first and waited until you said the exact same thing before letting you leave. And if you failed. If the target escaped...you would return knowing the consequences. 

A subtle brain washing.

You haven't said those words in a long time, but even now it affects you. Your surroundings fade away, your target locked in your sights. There's no way you're going to let him escape. HYDRA needs to be stopped. HYDRA needs to be  _destroyed_. 

You follow the target into the empty and cracked parking lot of the old hospital, Steve not far behind you. Your adrenaline is pumping as you grow closer and closer towards him, fingers itching to reach for the gun at your side. But you know you can't. Then suddenly the target stops and turns around, a gun in his hand, pointing straight at you. 

Before you can dive out of the way or pull your gun out to shirt first, Steve comes up behind you and throws his arms around you. He swiftly spins you around, his back to the target as the bullets ricochet off his shield. You hold his arms, which are protectively wrapped around you until the gunshots stop and you hear the sound of shattering glass. Steve pulls away from you, his hand at the small of your back. You both look back and find the glass door to the hospital is shattered. 

The target is out of sight, somewhere inside the hospital. 

You can still feel the warmth of having Steve's body pressed against yours, his thundering heartbeat not far from your memory. You're finally able to catch your breath, but for some reason, your heart is still pounding. 

You finally glance back at Steve. "I had it handled." You tell him quietly. 

"A simple thank you would suffice," He replies giving you a pointed look, "You enjoy nearly getting yourself killed, don't you?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Rogers?" You shoot back, eyebrows knitting together in irritation. 

"You're reckless. You could have gotten yourself killed. What if he was leading you into a trap?"

"I'm not reckless," you protest.

"You almost got shot," Steve says scoldingly, a frown gracing his lips. You step away from him, your lips in a thin line as you stare at him. "I think you're underestimating me," You tell him in a dangerously low voice. "You don't know me, Rogers.

The sparkle of passion in your eyes that Steve had seen back by the restaurant is gone. It's been smothered by the darkness that now clouds your eyes. "You may have heard what Clint said about me, but you haven't heard what he hasn't even dared to think about. I'm not worried about getting shot. I'm worried about not feeling the pain of it."

Before he can say anything else, you turn your back on him and pull out your gun. 

"The target shouldn't have gone far," You say through gritted teeth. You're pissed Steve intervened. If he hadn't gotten in the way, you would have dodged the bullets just fine and stopped the target from even entering the building. 

You enter the hospital first, the broken glass from the door crunching under your boots. When you pass through the doorway, some of the glass up top loses grip and falls on your head as well as Steve's. You attempt to brush it out your hair and have Steve stoop down a little to your level so you can brush it out of his hair also. Despite the cuts and tiny glass particles you get stuck in your hand, you succeed in getting all the glass out of Steve's hair. And that's when you hear it. 

The fire exit on the left of the first floor, down at the end of the hall flies open. 

Both you and Steve turn your attention to the hall and find two men and one woman heading your way. A black SUV screeches past the doorway, Clint clinging onto the back. It crashes out of sight and another SUV flies past the doorway, but Natasha is driving it with four other HYDRA agents on top of the hood. Looks like things are finally getting interesting.

"Natasha, Clint, report!" Steve commands as he takes his shield off of his back, prepared to fight the three HYDRA agents walking towards you and him.  _"Bringing the party to you!"_ Clint and Natasha say simultaneously. 

You glance at Steve who stands beside you and smirk. "Ready to dance, Rogers?"

"Bring it on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying the story so far, much is yet to come!
> 
> Thanks for leaving kudos and commenting! Feedback is the fuel of my writing <3


	5. A Ghost's Appearance

Throwing his shield at the first man that lunges for an attack, Steve jumps into action and begins to take him on while you put your gun away and hold your fists up, ready to fight the other two. The woman reaches for her gun but you quickly reach down and swipe a handful of glass, throwing it at her face. She stumbles back with a cry and the man races forward instead. 

He throws a punch at you but you immediately block it and kick him back into the old hospital check in counter. The woman tries another go at you while he recovers, shooting at least two bullets at you before Steve knocks the gun out of her hand with his shield. One of the two bullets grazes your shoulder, but you pay no mind to the stinging pain as the next man rushes towards you once more, only this time with a beating stick. You swiftly snag his wrist when he swings at you. 

"It's not polite to hit a lady," You comment before smashing the beating stick into his face multiple times until he stumbles back into the counter once more. The woman rushes you again, but spin the man in front of you around and shove him her way, knocking the two over. As you prepare for the next fight, you catch a glimpse of the stairway to the right. 

The target is opening the door to the stairs, ready to escape to the roof. 

"Rogers!" You shout, not taking your eyes off the door as you head that way. "I've got eyes on the target. He's heading for the roof." The third SUV suddenly comes smashing through what's left of the entrance's door, Sam not far behind. More HYDRA agents begin to spill into the room, at least 13 left, including the ones outside with Clint and Natasha. 

Steve locks eyes with you through the chaos. He knows you're going to pursue the target without him. 

"(Y/n), don't!" He calls out to you, catching his shield as it rebounds back to him. 

You break eye contact with him and make your way to the staircase. You throw open the door to the stairs and hurriedly begin to make your way up, gun in hand as you climb to the roof. You hear Steve stumble at the bottom of the stairs.

"(Y/n)!" He continues to call after you.

Another gun shot goes off, just barely missing your feet. You grab onto the railing and reel back for a moment, looking up. Your target takes a few more shots at you, but you continue to climb the stairs without stopping. He finally disappears and you hear a loud creak, followed by the sound of the door to the roof slam shut. 

You hurry up the last steps, but pause when the metal step beneath your foot begins to sink. You quickly withdraw your foot and take a couple steps back. The staircase. It's old and weak. It won't hold a lot of your weight. 

Steve suddenly touches your shoulder and you wince, turning your body to look at him. "Rogers."

As usual, his expression is one of irritation, his eyes fierce. Steve parts his lips to speak, resting his hand on your shoulder when you suddenly feel a stinging pain and pull away, reaching for your shoulder. His words fall short and the lecture in his head vanishes. Looking down at your shoulder you run your hand over the bloody fabric. 

"You got shot," He mutters to himself, letting his hand fall to his side. He looks up at you.

"It's just a flesh wound," You assure him, turning back around to face the stairs. "Now come on."

"Next time it might not be."

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. We need to focus on what's important." You take another step, hoping it can hold your weight. When you feel that it's sturdy, you begin to move forward and Steve begins to follow after you. As you turn the corner that leads to the last set of stairs, you catch a glimpse of Steve, true concern lacing his features. But the second he's out of view again, and all you have is his voice to understand, you wonder if the emotion was concern or pity. 

Just when you're about to reach the next flight of stairs, you freeze. The sound is barely noticeable but you can hear the staircase beginning to creak. Steve passes by you and you quickly snatch his coat sleeve before he takes another step. 

"Wait," You whisper, "Do you hear that?" You stand in silence for a moment before Steve looks back over at you.

"The staircase is creaking," he confirms your suspicions. "There's too much weight on it..."

After glancing around warily and testing the stairs by bouncing up and down on your toes, you let go of his sleeve. "We won't make it if we go together. This thing is gonna collapse if we put our full body weight on it." You begin, glancing at the stairs to find the safest way up. "Stay here. I'll take care of the target." You lock eyes with him. "I'll be back. I promise."

Steve shakes his head slowly, "You're not going alone."

You roll your eyes and show him your gun, tossing it down the stair case along with any other arsenal you have just in case your weight is still too much. "It's either I go up or we both go down." You tell him, "I think you see my point."

"I'm serious, (Y/n). You've left me behind twice, that's not happening again. I'm going with you."

You take the first daring step up the stairs, holding your breath as it creaks quietly, but doesn't bend. Then, without responding to Steve, you rush up the stairs. Steve's eyes widen. "(Y/n)!" He hisses, instantly taking a step, his hand outstretched towards you. The second he puts his full weight on the stairs, it bends and the entire staircase cracks loudly. Before he can prevent it from happening, Steve's foot falls through one of the metal steps and his leg gets stuck.

The railing you're so desperately holding onto suddenly snaps and you find yourself falling forwards. The staircase creaks as it tilts to the side, all but throwing you off. "(Y/n)!" You hear Steve shout as fly forward. Before you plummet to your death you grab the railing of the stairs once more, hoping with every fiber of your body that it doesn't snap like the other one.

Steve clings onto the stairs best he can, crying out in pain as the metal of the stair digs into his leg. He lifts his head to make sure you're alright and watches with wide and fearful eyes as you dangle from the old railing of the staircase below him. By now he realizes what he's done and how much trouble he's caused but all he can do at the moment is stay still while you climb over the railing and carefully make your way back up the stairs to help him. "Rogers!" You fume.

You hesitantly take a step towards him, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Steve lets out a groan of pain and grabs a hold of his leg, struggling to pull it free. His leg is caught pretty good, the metal cutting into the upper half of his calf. You assume there's a rather large gash that follows but you can't see passed his leg. And just when you reach out to help him, you hear him speak. 

"I don't trust you," he breathes out, voice straining with pain. "Not for a second."

You slowly bring your hand back. Out of everyone, Steve had seemed to be the one person you could really trust. But as his words sink in and you stare at him as he refuses to look up at you, you realize you were wrong. But you can't say you're surprised. You knew you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up in the first place. Why would Steve trust you?

_Why would anyone trust you?_

"You're making it a lot easier to leave you here, Rogers." You chide, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Steve lifts his head, eyes meeting yours. "You're going to leave me?"

"I'm sure tempted to."

Steve stares at you in silence for a moment before the guilt begins to sink in and he switches his gaze back down to his leg. He has nothing more to say, and if he does, he knows it will only anger you. Sighing, you look back up at the stairway door. You really want this to work. You don't want to be seen as the enemy anymore. You let out a deep breath and turn back around, looking at Steve with determined eyes. His words don't matter anymore. Who cares if he doesn't trust you? 

You're not doing this for him. 

Crouching down unsteadily you gently reach over and touch Steve's leg, examining it closely. He looks up at you, those big blue eyes of his twinkling with confusion and regret, but you choose to ignore his gaze. "You idiot," You sigh. You carefully begin to remove some of the little pieces of metal caught in his leg, wincing when Steve tenses and lets out a deep breath. Your hands are gentle and still, holding his leg with such a tenderness that it causes him to grow curious. 

"What about the target?" Steve asks through clenched teeth. 

You glare at him once more and he looks away. "Right. Sorry."

Once Steve's leg is free, he pulls it out of the hole in the metal stair and you move to his side, watching the stairs carefully as they creak. You both move to the wall side of the stairs and skip a few steps if you can depending on how strong you figure they might be. Steve is silent and he refuses to look up at you. He knows he was the one being reckless this time.

When you reach the top of the stairs you push the door to the roof open and help Steve inside. You hope to look around for the target but Steve begins to fall back, the pain in his leg only growing worse. You sigh after hearing another grunt of pain escape his lips and turn around in his arms, placing your hand on his chest as you push him back.

Steve's back hits a wall, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

"What are you doing?" He asks breathlessly, a bead of sweat running down his temple. 

"You're drained, Rogers," You answer him softly, "Sit down. Let me look at your wound."

There's a twinkle of mischief in Steve's eyes as he looks at you. "I can do this all day..." 

You smile. Not your usual broken smile or a smile you show through pain, but a true, sincere, smile. And so, Steve smiles as well, despite his pain. "Well what do you know," he teases gently, "You  _can_  smile."

You meet his eyes, crouching in front of him as he sits down. "Shut up and don't move..." You say, still smiling.

Grabbing a hold of his pant leg you snag the last knife you have, the one in your boot, and swiftly cut the fabric of his jeans so you can see the gash. You wince at the sight of it. The wound itself starts mid calf and slowly reaches the top half on the side of his leg, a few inches below the knee. A few pieces of metal are still caught in his flesh and its still bleeding.

 You press two fingers to your earpiece.  _"_ Anybody copy?" 

 _"Sam's on a wild goose chase down the street. Clint and I are still in the building."_ Natasha replies after a few seconds. _  
_

"Rogers is down," You tell her as you glance back at Steve. "He needs medical attention."

 _"And the target?"_  

"We're uh...we're working on it." 

 _"I'm on my way up."_  You hear Clint say.

Seeing that Steve is beginning to get light headed from the blood loss you ask how he's doing to ease his thoughts and keep him awake. He chuckles lightly at your question, letting his head fall back on the wall. "Not to complain or anything but...not good." He confesses. You smirk at him, putting your knife away as you say, "Who's the reckless one now?"

Steve smiles apologetically back at you. "Sorry."

You focus your attention back on his leg as you try and pry some of the metal out of his leg but you can practically feel Steve's gaze on you. Despite your best efforts, you lose focus on his leg and dare to look up at him. He's staring at you, and you want to say you're uncomfortable, but his eyes are just so...

You snap out of your thoughts and slowly rise to your feet. You break eye contact and cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the quick pace of your heart rate. "I'll uh...I'll stitch you up after the mission. For now, we should focus on the-"

"Target," Steve interrupts you, letting out a deep heavy sigh. His eyes are now trained on something behind you. 

And that's when you hear it. The whirling of helicopter propellers. Turning around you spot a helicopter with two men inside of it. One is clearly the pilot and the other is a man you can barely see the face of. The target, who must have been hiding on the roof while you and Steve were resting, jumps into the helicopter from the roof and your hands tighten into fists. 

The man already standing in the helicopter slides the door back even more and reveals a large gun attached to the inside of the helicopter. Your thoughts are immediate and you quickly push Steve forward, taking the shield off his back. 

"(Y/n) are you insane?" You hear Steve's voice over the helicopter's propellers. 

You ignore him and hold up the shield. It's heavy, but you think nothing of it as you move closer towards the helicopter. You're not letting the target get away. And you know it may be harder to walk when the bullets hit the shield, but you strongly believe that if he was going to shoot you, he would have done it by now. Just when you're about 10 feet away from the helicopter, you notice the man lowering the gun, moving it off to the side. And that's when he steps out of the shadows. 

Your facade breaks almost immediately, your eyes widening when you catch sight of the man who is standing before you in the helicopter. His features are unmistakable. Your body freezes completely. Fear has caught a hold of you, squeezing your chest, making it hard for you to breathe. No way. There's no way. There is no  _fucking_  way...

Brock Rumlow's piercing green eyes search yours with contempt, the scars of his burn marks engraved hauntingly on his face. 

Painful memories begin to flash through your mind like a hurricane, making your head ache painfully. Dizziness overwhelms you and you drop Steve's shield. But he only smirks. There's no sign of emotion in his eyes as he raises the gun once more. But this time you don't make any move to get out of the way or seek protection. No, this time you simply stare at the gun in his hands. The man who is supposed to be dead- the man who is supposed to never threaten your life again is alive.

But before Rumlow pulls the trigger, Steve's voice, raw with pain and fear, catches his attention. When he realizes that Steve Rogers-  _Captain America_ , is shouting to  _you_ , Rumlow slowly puts the gun aside again. You can tell there's a twisted thought passing through his mind as he glances between the two of you. And then he locks you in his sights. 

You read the words that don't fall from his lips. 

_"This isn't over."_

Your mind is screaming at you, your thoughts scraping together in your mind as fearful tears pool in your eyes. You want to move, to follow after the helicopter and end Brock Rumlow's life once and for all, but instead, you fall to your knees. 

The terrified thought of being taken away is overwhelming. That's all you can think about. Being taken away.  _Being used._ The fear of having your life flipped upside down- of having everything you have built in this new life taken away is heart-wrenching. You can't go back. You can't. Not again. You can't lose Clint. You can't lose your humanity.

_You can't lose yourself._

"No," you whisper under your breath, hearing Steve move behind you. "No...He's...He's dead."

"(Y/n)..." Steve says your name softly as he tries to reach you. 

"He's supposed to be dead!" You scream angrily, tears blurring your vision as you clench your fists tightly.

Your entire body is shaking with fear and hatred, although you're certain your anger is the only thing preventing your fear from taking over. You hear a soft thud and look over your shoulder spitefully. Your hatred had begun to spiral but when you spot Steve, all of your negative emotions leave you. The sight of Steve's pale, sweat covered face tugs at your heart strings. You notice the blood pooling around him and let out a shaky breath as you crawl towards him. 

You gently rest your hand on top of his hand, fingers entangling in his blond locks of hair as you stare down at him. Your emotions settle and the world around you becomes clear. Steve becomes clear.  _That's enough action for one day._

"(Y/n)," You hear Clint call out to you as he reaches the top of the stairs and enters onto the roof. 

"The target got away," You whisper emotionlessly. 

Clint stops and stands a couple feet away from you, glancing between you and Steve for a moment. He examines you closely as he stoops down to help Steve up. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

You want to tell him you did. That Brock Rumlow is alive. But you can't bring yourself to speak. Your heart is heavy and your legs feel like lead as you stand up on them. "Let's just get the hell out of here." You manage to breathe out. Clint stares at you for a moment longer, his eyebrows knit together in concern, but focus his attention back on the stairs as the two of you help Steve down and out of the hospital where you meet up with Natasha. She seems to be arguing with Clint again.

But you don't pay attention to their words. You never do. Your mind is cleared but you still feel hazy, the weight of worry and fear resting on your shoulders comfortably. You may hold it well, but you're not  _feeling_  well. 

When you and the others reach the cars Sam catches up with you and opens the car door of Natasha's corvet stingray. You and Clint help Steve into the backseat and move out of the way so Sam can take a seat beside him. You're assuming he's going to patch Steve up on the way back. Before Sam gets in he looks at you and asks, "What happened back there?" 

"I'll fill you in when we get back," Steve replies before you do, his voice weak from blood loss. 

He then looks at you, true concern glittering in his blue eyes, and for a moment it looks like he might say something to you, but you're not interested in listening to him at this point. You just want the day to be over so you can retreat back to your apartment and hide under your covers from the growing fear that's eating you away. Instead, you ride back with Clint to the abandoned HYDRA base where meetings are held to listen to the feedback of the team.

The team is upset with your recklessness of course and share a few words regarding your selfish actions but they don't tell you that you did a terrible job. Like Steve said he would, he fills the others in on what happened in the main room, but you reside outside the base, hoping to clear your thoughts. But you can't. All you can think of is Brock Rumlow.

He's alive. And you're sure the team is discussing his appearance inside at this very moment. It seems that they too had assumed he was dead after the helicarrier crashed into the building he was in and the ruins practically crushed him. You had still searched for him any mention of him the first months of your release from HYDRA just in case, but you had found nothing. But now that you know he's alive, you're even more motivated to destroy him and all that he's a part of. 

You hear the quiet tread of footsteps and turn to face whoever it is behind you. It's Clint.

"Hey," He greets you quietly with his usual half-smile. "You doing alright?"

You wrap your arms around yourself and rub your arms gently, hoping to ease your nerves. "Yeah. I'm just...tired."

"Steve told us what happened...that Rumlow's alive. I just-"

"I'm fine," You interject sharply, turning your back on him once more.

Clint is the only person besides Bucky that knows about your past with Brock Rumlow. How he manipulated you.  _Abused_  you. How everything was so vibrantly bright before he put his hands over your eyes and whispered horrible lies in your ears until you strayed too far from the light. For months you were unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel. But you did eventually. 

"Steve's asking for you," Clint breaks the silence. "He wants you to stitch him up."

"Why?" You inquire puzzledly. "Where is he?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," He shrugs, beginning to step back, "He's in the main room." 


	6. Picking Fights

 As you step into the building, you take a deep breath and silently hope Steve doesn't start lecturing you when you walk into the room. Upon turning the corner to the hallway where the main room stands, you run into Natasha. You briefly make eye contact with her before she passes by and continue towards the open door at the end of the hallway. Just from that single look, you can tell she's going to share a few harsh words with you some time or another. 

Looking in from the outside, you spot Steve sitting bent over in a chair at the far end of the table, running a wet cloth over his leg. Standing next to him is Sam, who seems to be on the phone with someone. Instead of entering the room you decide to stop in the doorway and lean against its frame as you cross your arms. That's when Sam notices you. 

"No, no, no," You hear him says as he breaks eye contact with you. "We don't need your help." Sam turns on his heels as he paces. His relaxed expression suddenly turns to one of annoyance. "No, it is not his turn to provide dinner." 

"Natasha provided dinner yesterday, which means we're back to the first person." Steve pipes up. 

"Steve says Natasha made dinner last, so that pins dinner on you, Tony."

Sam turns to pace in the other direction, shaking his head vigorously as he continues to argue with who you assume is Tony Stark. He falls silent for a moment as if listening to what Tony has to say before Sam snaps at him and begins to recall all the past dinners he's had. Steve chuckles quietly and lifts his head. He sets down the bloody wash cloth in his hand and notices you standing in the doorway. His attention is immediately drawn to you. "(Y/n)," He speaks up softly.

Your gaze shifts back to Steve. "Hey," you greet him with a small smile. "I heard you wanted me to stitch you up. Are you sure you want to put your life in my hands again?" You ask. A faint smile tugs at Steve's lips, his blue eyes twinkling.

"That's hilarious." He muses as he leans back in his chair. 

As you round the table you notice Sam beginning to walk back towards you and Steve, a smirk of victory plastered on his face. You tilt your head to the side in curiosity and stand beside Steve as he stops in front of you two. 

"I finally put that asshole in his place," Sam states proudly.

 _"I can hear you,"_ Tony sneers, his voice muffled by the phone.

"Glad you have ears to hear, Stark."

Sam glances at Steve and then back at you once more before lowering the phone from his ear. "I've stitched Steve's leg up but it's going to take a few days to fully heal," He explains to you as he turns to pack up his medical supplies. "There's still a few cuts that need stitching though." There's seems to be a glint in Sam's eyes that wasn't there before.

And you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it almost looks like a look of trust. "I see," you trail off slowly.

Sam picks up his bag and Steve smiles gratefully at him. "Tell Tony the team and I want spaghetti and meatballs for dinner."

"Aye aye, Captain." He salutes Steve before turning around to head out the room. "You hear that, Stark? Spaghetti and meatballs. Not just spaghetti. Not just meatballs. Spaghetti  _and_  meatballs, motherfucker."

As Sam exits the room, leaving only a bowl of warm water with a wash cloth, some alcohol, and few other supplies, you grab a chair and pull it around to sit in front of Steve. "I didn't know Stark could cook," you smirk. "I'd kill to see that."

Steve chuckles at your words, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "If Tony tried to cook he'd burn down the entire tower. The only thing he makes is coffee and Clint usually takes the whole pot for himself. He just orders the meals."

"So what?" You inquire as you reach beside you and grab the washcloth. "You all live in Stark's tower as one big happy family?"

"You could say that," Steve replies with a smile.

You move your chair closer and reach out for his arm, glancing hesitantly at him. He gives you a reassuring nod and you gently take his arm in your hands, running the cloth over his skin. The room has gone eerily silent now. Your attention is focused on cleaning Steve's wounds but his attention is on you. It seems like the more time he spends with you, the more time he spends wanting to spend  _more_  time with you. But there's still so much about you that he doesn't know yet...

"Thank you, by the way..." Steve murmurs. His voice sounds softer than before.

"For what? I've done nothing worth recognizing." 

Steve smiles knowingly at you. "That's not true. You could have left me to bleed out on that staircase. And I..." He pauses and frowns slightly, "I wouldn't have blamed you. But you didn't. Even after what I said to you..."

You stay silent and place the wash cloth back in the bowl, taking the alcohol next. 

If you're being honest with yourself, you were going to leave him on the stairs. And maybe if you had, you would have gotten the target and gotten some answers about Rumlow, but sitting in front of him now, you're glad you didn't. Steve is a good person. He may drive you up the wall and infuriate you sometimes, but he's a good person. Not to mention you actually feel...good. You helped somebody. You helped him and he's thanking you for it. And you actually feel  _good_...

"I'm just...trying to be better." You say softly, breaking the silence. 

Steve watches you with wonder in his eyes as you begin to stitch up one of the gashes on his arm.You almost said, "you would have done the same" but you aren't sure if he really would have or not. Would he really have chosen your life over the targets?

You definitely wouldn't have.

After a long few minutes in silence, you finish the stitches on his arms and place the needle back on the table. You then raise Steve's arm to your lips and use your teeth to tighten the stitch before pulling away to search for something that might be able to cut the extra thread. Just when you're about to grab scissors, you see Steve's hand extend towards you.

Steve's fingertips brush against the exposed skin of your shoulder and you freeze. Glancing over at your shoulder you spot where the bullet grazed your skin and tore the fabric of your shirt. "Steve," You begin, only to have him cut you off.

"Stay still..." He orders softly, "You're bleeding." 

Sliding your sleeve down your arm, Steve exposes your shoulder and reveals the gash that the bullet had left. It's not a big wound, but it's deeper than you expected. Without saying anything else, Steve reaches for the wash cloth and wrings it out. With one hand gently holding your upper arm and the other with the wet cloth, he begins to clean the dried and fresh blood on your skin. You shift your gaze to him but say nothing to protest as he reaches for the alcohol.

You can't help but stare at him. And you're not sure if he can see it or not, but color has risen to your cheeks. You're not used to being so close to him. There were a few exceptions, but this...feels different. 

"This might hurt. Do you want to bite down on something?" He asks. You shake your head meekly.

He stares at you for a moment longer before finding affirmation in your eyes. He then pours some of the alcohol on your shoulder and picks up a new needle and thread. "About what I said before..." He reminds you, "It was out of line."

You assume he's referring to what he said back on the stairway in the hospital and shift your gaze to the ground.

"You don't have to apologize," You tell him softly, "I don't expect you to trust me."

Steve's eyes soften as he gazes at you, his hands stilling over the gash in your shoulder. He wants to say something but refrains from doing so in fear that it might upset you. If he says something it will either cause you to feel worse or spark a kindled fire of anger inside you and frankly, he doesn't want either of them to happen. 

The weight of the silence is heavier than usual but Steve manages to stitch you up despite it. As he begins to place a bandage over it, Sam enters the room. "Everyone's about ready to leave," He states as he looks between the two of you. 

"Alright," Steve says, giving Sam a curt nod. "We'll be out in a minute."

Once Sam leaves the room Steve sets aside the needle and you stand up to put the medical supplies in their box. The table has already been cleaned of files and maps, all safely tucked away in Clint's car, leaving only a table and some chairs in the room after you pack up the medical supplies. You hand the box over to Steve and notice him staring but turn you back on him and walk out of the room without looking back. It's been a long day and all you want to do is go home and  _sleep_.

Exiting the building you spot the others casually standing around their cars talking. Steve trails not far behind you with a limp and everybody turns their attention to him, ready to hear the final word of the day and go home. 

You take your place a few feet away from the others and cross your arms over your chest, eyes on the ground. 

"What's our next move?" You hear Sam ask.

"Rumlow's alive," You say quietly, "Our next move should be towards him."

Clint nods and looks back at Steve, "I agree. If we find Rumlow we find the core center of HYDRA."

"Do we have a lead on his whereabouts or why he's recruiting ex-HYDRA leaders?" Natasha asks anxiously. 

"All we know right now is that he's alive," Steve answers with a sigh. 

Natasha glances at you and feeling her gaze, you meet her eyes. "What?" You question her, "Why are you looking to me?"

"I was hoping you might know where he disappeared to."

You stare her in disbelief. "I haven't been in contact with Rumlow since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell," You reply sharply, looking at her with narrow eyes. You can tell by the tone of her voice that she's suspicious of you. She's putting a target on your back. 

"I know how closely you worked with Rumlow," She replies spitefully, "You two were inseparable."

"Natasha-" Clint begins to argue when you cut him off.

"You don't know anything about my past with him," You shoot back venomously. 

Natasha takes a daring step towards you but Clint places himself in front of you, glaring at Natasha. She stops in her place almost immediately and takes a step back, her eyes still on you. But your gaze, however, has fixed on someone else. Steve stands in the middle of the tension, his eyes full of uncertainty as he stares at you, fists clenched. For some reason, it seems like every time something threatens your good intentions you're looking to Steve. And even you don't know why.

You look back at Natasha. "I am  _not_  the bad guy here," You manage to utter. "So stop treating me like I am."

Fed up with all the arguing and suspicious glances, you turn on your heels and begin to walk towards Clint's car. Clint lets out a deep breath and turns to follow you, but Steve moves first, brushing past him. Clint's eyebrows furrow in slight confusion as he moves to follow after but Natasha grabs his arm, preventing him from moving. He glances back at Natasha for answers but she only shakes his head. He then looks back at Steve with worried eyes, watching as he marches towards you.

Just as you open the car door to get in, Steve's hand presses against it and he closes it without a single word. You can feel Steve's warmth radiating from his body to yours and you shiver as a chill runs up your spine. Of course he would follow you.

"Rogers," You say in a dangerously low voice, "Move." 

"Why didn't you tell me you worked with Rumlow?"  

Turning around, you feel your back press against the car. "Because it doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?" He echoes sternly, letting his arm drop at his side. "How closely did you work with him, (Y/n)?"

"What do you want me to say, Rogers?" You ask as you glare at him. To be honest, you're feeling a little more helpless than you are pissed. "What am I supposed to say that won't make you think less of me?"

Steve's eyes soften, his fists tightening into loose fists as he continues to stare at you. It always seems like he picks fights that you can't win. And every time you lose he's surprised. Is his image of you that distorted? Steve takes a step back and you can practically feel the friction between you two fade. But the tension, however, remains the same. Hearing hurried footsteps, you look past Steve and notice Clint jogging towards you two. When he reaches you, he too can feel the tension in the air.

He rests his hand on your shoulder to make sure you're okay and then turns to look at Steve, who stands stiffly in the silence. "Leave her be, Cap," Clint says gently. "We've all had one hell of a day. Let's just go home..."

Clint opens the passenger door for you and you smile weakly at him as you get in the car. He closes the door once you're inside and continues to stare at Steve level-headedly. "I know you have questions," Clint begins, his voice low and hushed, "But right now my loyalty is to  _her_. We'll talk about Rumlow when I meet you back at the tower."

Steve nods in unspoken agreement and looks through the tinted windows of Clint's car to see you. Although questions are still buzzing inside his head and the unsettling pit in his stomach remains, he refrains from saying anything more.

With the tension resolved for now and the conversation at its end, Clint turns away from Steve and walks around the car to get in on the other side. He slams the car door shut before finally buckling himself in, but remains in silence with his hands on the steering wheel. Once he's cleared his thoughts Clint glances over at you to make sure if you're really alright. When he believes he's done all he can to defend you, he smiles tiredly and finally starts the car, driving away with you.

Steve remains in the front lot of the HYDRA base with Sam and Natasha behind him. He adjusts his weight to sit comfortably on his good leg before stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, watching the car disappear beyond a hill.  

Sam slowly walks up beside him. "What do you think?" He asks curiously. "Can we trust her?"

"I don't know," Steve replies faintly.  

"What are we going to do if we can't?" 

"We'll do what we have to," Natasha states suddenly as she walks up behind them. 

"And that is?"

"Hand her over to Fury."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so dreadfully sorry it took so long to update! And that it's so short...I got stuck here and there. But thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!!
> 
> And don't worry...things are just getting started.


	7. Breakfast?

Days feel longer when you're alone.

It's been a few days since your last mission with the team...

Almost a week.

As you stare out at the city beyond the windows of your apartment, you wonder if they've come any closer to finding out something about Rumlow. And if they have you wonder if they'll even tell you. Natasha made it pretty clear she believes you're still working for him, like some sort of double agent. And you can't blame her for thinking so. 

Clint had called a few times during the past few days, but nothing he said was related to Rumlow.

You've been standing by the windows for longer than you can remember. Your arms are wrapped around you as you hug yourself tightly, hoping for warmth away from the flames of the fireplace. Perhaps it's time you leave your apartment...

Finally breaking your still silence, you turn away from the windows and make your way up the stairs to put on some clothes. 

You end up throwing on a white turtle neck on and slip into a pair of comfortable jeans. The rain has in fact passed, but it hasn't gotten any warmer since then. You assume it will warm up by the afternoon, but even at the end of August, the days are cold. Heading down the stairs, you decide to make yourself a cup of coffee before you leave. But once you reach the kitchen and open up the jar that holds your coffee, you find that it's empty. "Awe, man..." You pout as you close the jar. 

Looks like you're going to have to wait a little while longer before you can actually function.

You glance over at the end of the bar where your wallet lies and don't bother to open it. You know you don't have a lot of money, and you don't feel like walking all the way to the store when all you want is coffee. So instead you head to a coffee shop. You don't have a car either, and paying a cab to take you to get a cup of coffee seems like a high price. So you walk.

When you enter the coffee shop a wave of warm air hits you and the door closes. You wait in a short line for your drink and then order one of their best coffees. You don't often visit places like this, but you have to admit, it is nice. 

Once you step outside with your coffee in hand and take a few sips of your drink, you feel your spirits beginning to lift. The thing is, you don't spend a lot of time interacting with other people. When you were a HYDRA agent, you rarely went out into the city. You were either at a compound base or back home in a cabin in the country. You lived in your own world, even after you broke free from HYDRA. Nobody else really mattered. And you didn't feel comfortable being around them.

As you turn the corner of a small building, your thoughts are interrupted when you nearly bump into someone, but your reflexes are immediate and you miss them, just barely saving your coffee before it slams into them. However, you had been so intent on saving your coffee and making sure you didn't bump into the first person, that you bump into another.

The coffee cup in your hand slams into the back of whoever you've just run into and the lid pops off. Startled by the sudden collision, the man turns around and his hand bumps into your cup, spilling coffee all over you.

"I am so sorry!" The man stutters, "I didn't mean to..." His voice begins to trail off. "...run into you."

Looking up from your empty coffee cup, you notice the man you bumped into and find yourself gazing into Steve's familiar blue eyes. "(Y/n)," He breaths out as you take a step back. "Steve..." You respond quietly, awkwardly shuffling your feet as you avert your gaze. Even though you've been thinking about him all morning you're still not ready to face him.

Steve looks you up and down as if he's not used to seeing you in normal clothes. "You...You look good." He stutters.

"You think so?" You ask sarcastically, gesturing to the coffee stain as you smile forcefully at him.

"I'm sorry," He winces sheepishly, "I really- I should have reacted better."

Glancing over at a trash can on the edge of the sidewalk you toss your empty coffee cup into the bin and look back at Steve with dull eyes. "I really am sorry," He sighs, "Please. Let me buy you another one." 

"It's fine," You say as you let out a deep breath, "You don't have to do that. I was just..." You glance down at your shirt, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of sadness as you stare down at the coffee on your white shirt. "I just really wanted coffee." You sigh, looking over at the trash can one last time. Steve bites back a smile. You always seem to pout over food. 

"I was actually on my way to see you," Steve says after a moment's pause. 

Now he's caught your attention, but you're not exactly ready for a discussion yet. "Not to complain or anything but- Actually. Yes, I am complaining. I'd rather not talk in the middle of a sidewalk when I'm drenched in coffee."

"Right," Steve mutters, turning to the direction of your block. "Let me walk you home?"

You glance at him warily, but nod slowly and look away. You still feel uneasy being around him after your last conversation with him, but as the two of you walk towards your apartment, you walk in silence. When you reach your apartment you let Steve inside and slip off your boots as he walks towards the living area. "I'll be down in a minute. Feel free to look around."

You hurry up the stairs to change into new clothes while Steve waits at the bottom for you. If he was on his way to see you that must mean there's an upcoming mission. Perhaps they've found something on Rumlow or even a HYDRA base. You're not sure. There are countless possibilities for Steve to visit you. He might even be here for other reasons.

Having already gotten a good look at the apartment, Steve glances back up the stairs, catching a glimpse of your bare back as you take off your shirt. He quickly focuses his attention on what's happening outside the windows.

After washing the coffee off your skin and changing into a blue sweater with different pants, you head back down the stairs.

"So what is it you need?" You ask, brushing past him to lean against the couch. 

"Turns out the target from our last mission was some sort of mechanic," Steve states as he folds his arms over his chest. "We assume he's helping Rumlow build something important. We couldn't track them, but we did find his supplier."

Just as you thought. A mission. "That's all I need to know. When's the mission?"

"Today..." Steve answers slowly. 

"Today?" You repeat, raising your eyebrows. You would have thought he'd tell you sooner.

"I know it's on short notice but we just pinned his location today and we don't know if he's going to move." 

"Alright," You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "When do we leave and where do we leave to?"

"Milan, Italy. We leave in an hour."

"Italy?" You repeat in surprise, eyebrows furrowing. "We're leaving for Italy?"

"In an hour, yes," He responds nonchalantly. "It's going to be a low profile mission so don't worry about changing again. I'll run you over the details when we're on the quinjet. And as for arsenal, Stark has been more than happy to supply for you."

You nod slowly. You've never been to Italy before. This could be fun...

"Is that all?" You ask, pushing yourself off the couch. "For now. There's more to discuss, but like I said, we'll have plenty of time to talk on the quinjet. It should only take four hours, rather than seven." Steve replies quietly. 

"Alright," You say, making your way around the bar into the kitchen, "I guess I'll see you then."

You cross your arms and rest them on the counter as you watch Steve make his way to the door. He seems a bit disappointed and there's an unreadable expression on his face, but you don't bother thinking about it too much. That is until he stops and spins right back around, his blue eyes boring into yours. You raise your eyebrows to show your listening, but there's a long silence before he licks his lips and speaks. "Would you...maybe like to...go to breakfast with me?"

Your eyes widen slightly. "Breakfast?" You echo in a soft and puzzled voice. 

You can tell by the way his forehead creases that even he is unsure of what he just said. 

"I mean- you don't have to," Steve stutters, "I just figured...since I spilled your coffee and ruined your clothes it's the least I can do." He trails off quietly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Your thoughts are telling you that it isn't a good idea to get involved with Steve any more than you already are, but there's a small part of you longs to be beside him. And not just on missions or for the sake of eliminating Hydra. But it's dangerous to get too close to him- to anyone. But...it's just one breakfast, isn't it? One single breakfast can't hurt anyone.

Biting your lip you stand up straight and at look at him hesitantly. "I guess...breakfast couldn't hurt." A smile tugs at Steve's lips as he beams at you. "Don't get too excited," You smirk, "It's just breakfast. And might I ask where we're going?"

"Grumpy Cafe," He tells you as he tries to keep his smile at bay. "It's not far from the tower."

You walk past him towards the door where you abandoned your boots and slip them back on as he heads for the door. Once your boots are snug on your feet and you're convinced you don't need any more preparation for the day, you stand up tall and put your hands on your hips, looking to Steve. "Well," You say with a sigh, "Lead the way Captain."

Steve smirks at your words and opens the door, stepping out onto the porch. You follow not far behind him and lock the door. Stuffing your key in your pant pocket you turn back around and look for Steve's car, but see nothing. 

"So where's your car?" You ask quizzically. 

Steve shoots you an amused glance and then walks towards a motorcycle.  _His_  motorcycle. There are no helmets, to your surprise. You've always thought Steve was strict when it came to safety, but then again he did try to follow you up a broken staircase even after you both confirmed it wasn't stable enough to hold two people...

"How romantic," You comment sarcastically as you watch him take a seat on the bike. He looks back at you with unreadable eyes and parted lips. You roll your eyes and smirk, moving to take your seat. "Relax, Rogers, I'm kidding."

Throwing your leg over the bike you sit behind Steve and rest your hands on his shoulders. You've ridden a motorcycle before, but none-the-less you're still kind of scared of riding them. "Go slow, alright?" You say when Steve looks back at you over his shoulder. He gives you a small nod and then lifts the kickstand with his foot. "Ready?" He asks.

"Ready as I'll ever be," You mumble loud enough for him to hear. 

Before you can even get comfortable in your seat, the engine roars to life and the motorcycle revs forward. Startled by the sudden movements you throw your arms around Steve and press up against him, eyes wide with surprise. Soon after, Steve slows down and glances back at you as he falls behind some cars on the street. You meet his eyes and glare at him, catching sight of a mischevious glint in his blue orbs. But despite the sudden take off, you find yourself enjoying the ride. 

After a long moment of anxiousness, you slowly pull away from Steve and take your time to look at the city around you. With your arms still safely wrapped around him, your eyes watching the passing scenery. People, much like you, walk up and down the sidewalks while the sun pours its rays of light down on them. Cars pass by, all in different styles, shapes, and colors.

When you come to a stoplight, your eyes continue to wander the city, completely unaware of Steve's gaze as he looks back at you. It's moments like these that Steve can see the light in your eyes slowly returning. 

Upon reaching the cafe Steve parks the motorcycle on the side of the road. He sets up the kickstand with his foot and then gets off, waiting for you to follow suit. You throw your leg over the seat and hop off, looking at the cafe in front of you. To your surprise, it looks just like any other cafe or diner. But the simplicity of it reminds you of Steve.

"This place is busy," You comment as you open the door and let Steve in. A small bell rings and waiter passes by you with two trays in his hand. "I'll be with you in a minute!" He says before hurrying off to serve another customer. 

"It's one of the best cafe's in the city," Steve replies as he shares a look with you. 

The waiter returns soon enough and hands both of you a menu as he leads you back towards a table. You glance around the cafe, which is full of average looking people. The interior is just as simple as the exterior as well. It almost feels strange being in the same room as them. For the longest time, you had shut yourself in your apartment in fear you might hurt someone.

You still do sometimes. You just feel as if...you destroy everything you touch. 

"(Y/n)," Steve says your name gently.

Your thoughts clear and you glance down at him, seeing as he has already taken a seat in a booth. You realize you had gotten lost in your own little world and sit down in the seat across from him. "Sorry," You apologize quickly, opening your menu.

"Tell me when you're ready," The waiter smiles at you before looking to Steve. "And your usual, Captain Rogers?"

"Yes, and please," Steve begs him quietly, "Call me Steve."

Looking up from your menu you glance at the waiter and then Steve. "Pancakes and coffee, please." You say slowly, your eyes still focused on Steve. "Alright," The waiter replies brightly, "I'll have your food back in a jiff!"

When the waiter leaves Steve meets your eyes. "What?" He questions the smirk on your face. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't be any more predictable," You tease him. "A usual, huh?"

"I'm not predictable!" Steve protests, trying not to crack a smile. He's denying it, but he knows it's true. 

"Let me guess," You murmur as you rest your chin in your hand, "Eggs and bacon with a hash brown."

Steve averts his gaze, leaning back into his seat as he looks out the window. He presses his lips together tightly to try and keep himself from smiling, his cheeks fluttering slightly. "Not...exactly," He says after a moment, looking back at you.

Only a few seconds later the waiter returns with a tray carrying your food. He first sets down the plates and then the drinks. "And don't worry about paying," He assures you, "If you're with the Captain it's on the house." He then takes a step back to and smiles at you. "Enjoy," He tells you as he his final word. And with that, he takes his leave once more.

"Unbelievable," You mutter, shaking your head slowly as you look at Steve's plate. He does, in fact, have eggs, bacon, and a hash brown. But that's not it. For his drink, he has orange juice. It's like a complete all-American breakfast!

"What?" He whines in dismay, "I like it! It reminds me of the 40's."

You continue to shake your head, rolling your eyes playfully. It's strange seeing Steve this way. He's not much different from his usual self, the Steve you see saving the world, but at the same time, he almost seems happier to not be fighting for them. You can only imagine why. The life of a super hero can't be as easy and as happy as everyone makes it out to be. 

To be honest, you haven't thought about it much, but Steve's past is sad. You can't imagine what it must have been like to "die" in your time, stay frozen over several years, and wake up in another time, all while losing your loved ones.

Before you have even eaten half of your pancake, you hear the quiet ringing of a phone. Glancing up from your food you watch Steve set down his fork and knife to reach down into his pant pocket to pick up his phone. "Natasha," He answers the call as he moves the phone to his ear. "Yeah, she's with me." He says, locking eyes with you. 

Steve nods slowly in response to whatever Natasha is saying and then looks out the window. "Alright. We'll be there shortly. Get the quinjet ready for launch and double check to make sure we have everything we need for the mission."

You realize Steve is probably going to make you abandon your pancakes and glance longingly down at your plate. You weren't able to finish your french toast sticks last time, and you probably won't be having another good meal for a while, so you hurriedly begin to finish your pancakes. You don't have a lot of money. You barely even eat breakfast or dinner.

Steve shoves his phone back into the depths of his pockets and looks back at you. One corner of his mouth quirks up when he notices you eating your pancakes as fast as you can so they don't go to waste. "Take off's at 9. We have 10 minutes."

"How far is the tower?" You ask, stuffing the last of your breakfast in your mouth. 

"Right down the street," He replies, smirking slightly, "We drove right by it, how could you miss it?"

You merely offer a shrug and the two of you stand up. Steve picks up one last bacon strip for the road while you begin to chug your coffee. It's not the best coffee if you're being honest, but it'll keep you awake.

Steve tips the waiter a twenty and then ushers you through and out the cafe. The bell of the doors rings as you pass through it and the two of you head towards his motorcycle. You glance down the street, curious to see if you really did miss the Avengers Tower, and sure enough, Steve wasn't joking. Not far down the street, you can see the tower. 

Or the bottom half, from where you're standing. 

"Hey, Rogers?" You say suddenly, causing Steve to turn around and look at you. "Yes, (Y/n)?"

"Can I drive?"

"No, (Y/n)."

"...Yes, (Y/n)."

"(Y/n)... _no_."

"(Y/n)  _yes_."


	8. Reality

With your arms loosely wrapped around Steve's waist and the chilling wind all around, you shiver and instinctively inch closer to Steve, who provides a radiant warmth. Despite the cold weather and the partially cloudy sky to go with it, you smile to yourself. It's true that it may not be one of the brightest days but for some reason, you cant help but feel light hearted. 

As Steve leads the motorcycle down towards the tower you find yourself lost in your own little world. One where reality isn't present for the moment and the weight of the world doesn't rest upon your shoulders. One where you actually feel human again, because without the lingering thoughts of all that you've done wrong and the fear of being alone, you presently feel like any other person in the city. In this rare moment, there is nothing separating you from living in a world with others. 

This moment, however, begins to fade. The Avenger's tower grows closer and all at once reality begins to draw you back into its cold embrace. But as you look at Steve, there's a part of you that feels as if you're still in the same world as him. 

The motorcycle slowly reaches the garage and the door closes behind you once you're inside. The garage is full of many cars, two you recognize as Clint and Natasha's. You assume all the others are Tony's, and you have to admit, he has pretty great taste. Now, you've never met him before, but you've heard plenty about him. And not just about his brilliant mind. You've heard he's fluent in sarcasm  _and_  wittiness. You may not know him but you like him already.

 **"Recognized-"**  An uninvited voice suddenly echoes through the garage.  **"Welcome back, Captain Rogers."**

Startled by the voice, you look around in search of the new face, but find no one in sight. Steve smiles at your antics and you lock eyes with him, completely confused. "J.A.R.V.I.S.," Steve tells you, "Stark's AI system."

 **"I'm afraid I don't recognize her,"** J.A.R.V.I.S. apologizes,  **"I do not have any files to associate her with."**

Steve turns away and begins to lead you to the elevator. "That's fine, J.A.R.V.I.S.. She's with me. Put her in the system."

**"Already done, Captain. Might I have your name, Miss?"**

Still in awe of the AI, you quietly reply, "(Y/n)..." 

**"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/n)."**

"Somehow I doubt that," You mutter as you stop beside Steve in front of the elevator. The door opens without Steve having to press any buttons and the two of you then step inside.  **"The others are waiting for you on the roof,"** J.A.R.V.I.S. tells you,  **"The quinjet will be ready for take off in six minutes."** With that said the elevator doors close shut. 

 Steve peers over at you while you try to collect your thoughts. You're amazed by everything. The tower, the AI system- even by the elevator. Everything looks as if it's been crafted and shaped by Stark's own hands. Which it probably has been. 

When the elevator reaches the main floor of the tower the doors open, revealing a large living area leading off to many other areas. In the middle are a few white couches and a couple of matching chairs. To the left is a small bar with assorted and colorful drinks, which you assume are all alcohol. Above the living area is even a small balcony with railing and telescopes to look out of to see the stars or even the city. The entire floor screams brilliance and great design.

Steve leads you up a small flight of stairs by the bar and you find yourself walking towards another elevator. It opens as soon as you're within five feet of it and the two of you hop inside, ready for your newest mission.

Before long the elevator doors open again. Only this time, you're welcomed out by a wave of chilling air. 

Above you is a small roof, made of the same metal of the tower. Beneath it is the launch pad for the jet where the roof eventually ends and leaves room for the jet to take off. Speaking of the jet, it currently sits in front of you, doors open, ready to take its leave. It's not too big but it's not too small either- and from the looks of it, it can hold quite a few people. 

Natasha, who is setting some heavy looking bags in the quinjet, notices your arrival and puts her hands on her hips as she watches you and Steve make your way toward the jet. "Take a detour?" She asks, glancing between you two. 

"You could say that," Steve says, biting back a small smile as he stops in front of the quinjet's open hatch. 

Still in silent wonder of the entire tower, you take a look around the launch pad, curious of every detail. Your eyes scan over Clint who stands by Sam, but unlike the archer who is dressed in his suit and gear, Sam wears casual clothes. And that's when you notice Natasha is in her suit as well. If this is supposed to be a casual mission why are the others in their suits?

Clint abandons Sam's side and makes his way over to you, offering his usual half-smile with a twinkle in his eyes. "I knew you'd come," He says, proud to know you better than anyone else. "Admit it, you've been bored without us."

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, smirking all the while. "Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Oh yeah," Natasha says sarcastically as she exits the quinjet, "Because who doesn't want a careless, and not to mention, reckless loose cannon on their team? Are we going to get on with this mission, or what?"

Clint turns and gives Natasha a pointed look but the stubborn assassin just shrugs innocently and grabs the last bag of supplies to put on the quinjet. By now you can't say you're surprised by her words. You've accepted that Natasha, and maybe even Sam and Steve, will constantly have their doubts about you. And although it still stings a little, you're used to it. 

 "Are we all set?" Steve asks as he enters the quinjet. 

You and Clint follow behind him, Sam doing the same. Natasha drops the last bag on the floor of the jet and nods firmly. "Pile in everyone, we'll be taking off momentarily." With that said she turns her back and heads to the front of the quinjet where her seat as the pilot awaits. Once everyone is inside, the hatch closes behind you, leaving behind the bitter cold air outside.

"So now that the gangs all here, what exactly are we doing?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Did I mention I like your outfit?" Clint says suddenly as he takes his seat, sitting across from Sam. 

You look at Clint and he meets your gaze rather cheerfully, a simple smile on his face. You can't even begin to wonder why he just said what he did, but thankfully, Steve explains for you. "We're sending you and Sam undercover."

"Which explains the clothes," You reply slowly, "But what about you and the others?"

"As Avengers, we'd be too easily recognized."

You nod slowly, finally satisfied with the knowledge you have of the mission. And as you guessed the first day, Sam is not an Avenger. Although you admit, from what you've seen, he would make a fine addition to the team. 

Taking your seat next to Clint you lean your back against the wall of the jet and let out a sigh. Steve sits across from you but before he can meet your eyes Clint nudges you with his shoulder and you turn your attention to him. "I brought donuts," He says casually, holding a small box of donut for you to take. "I ate one so there's only three."

You smile lightly at him, genuinely touched that he bought you donuts. You take the small pink box from his hands and set it underneath your seat before returning to your comfortable position with your back against the wall. 

"You're not hungry?" Clint asks, surprise sounding quite audible in his voice. 

You subconsciously shift your gaze and look at Steve, who stares out the front windshield of the quinjet. "I already ate."

Both Sam and Clint follow your gaze, their eyes full of confusion. Feeling their gaze, Steve glances back at the two of them. "So, you and (Y/n) went out for breakfast?" Sam says quietly, almost in disbelief.

Steve nods slowly, unsure of why they're asking. Sam then shares a look with Clint but decides against prying any further. Clint leans back in his seat as if he's still pondering the topic, but he doesn't say anything else either. Steve may find their reactions strange, but you can understand why they're so surprised that you had breakfast with him. If you're being honest, it surprised you too. No one besides Clint has never reached out to you before, let alone take you out to eat. 

But you also have to remind yourself he's just trying to get on your good side. He doesn't need you. He needs your help to destroy HYDRA. The moment everything is said and done, and HYDRA's out of the picture, so are you. 

Before long the quinjet is in the air, soaring through the sky towards its destination. Milan, Italy.

Once everyone inside is settled and Natasha has set the quinjet on auto-pilot, she joins the rest of the team in the back, holding a couple files in her hands. "As Steve has probably already told you, we weren't able to track Brock Rumlow, but we did, however, discover that the target from last mission was a mechanic. After that, we tracked down his supplier."

Natasha hands both files to you, assuming everyone else has already read them. "Once we take the supplier in for questioning we hope to figure out what he's supplying to Rumlow and why he needs it."

"Hopefully we'll be able to get Rumlow's location from him," Steve adds as you open one of the files. 

"But why now did Rumlow decide to come out of hiding?" You ask, wondering to yourself rather than out loud. 

"That we don't know," Sam says, clasping his hands together as he leans forward on his knees. 

Brock Rumlow has been hiding for over six months. There hasn't been one single trace of him anywhere, which means he took care in keeping his location hidden. Even though his location is uncertain now, the fact that he's come out of hiding and shown his face to the _Avengers-_  you're worried about what power and strength he has come across.

"And our plans for today," You speak up again, looking to Steve, "What's going to happen during this low profile mission?"

Natasha answers instead. "The supplier is working in a bar called  _Rivestimenti in Argento._ Otherwise known as Silver Linings."

"And you're sending Sam and I in as civilians. Why is that?"

"There's a casino underneath the bar that the supplier owns. That's where he's hiding. The rest of us wouldn't be able to enter in the bar without being recognized. There's no way we would reach the casino."

"This sounds like something out of a James Bond movie," You murmur, looking at a picture of the casino from the file. 

Flipping through the few pages of the next file, you look at the blueprints of the casino and the names of the workers that associate with the supplier. According to the file, only twelve people guard the bar and casino. So this would be a relatively easy and quick mission. The only thing you're dreading is the several hour flight it takes to get to your destination. 

You give the files in your hands back to Natasha and she heads back to the front to continue driving the quinjet. Sam merely closes his eyes and leans his back on the wall as he takes in the new found silence, whereas Steve stares at the floor. 

You yawn at the thought of sleep, having not had any for who knows how long. Your thoughts are not the only thing that keep you awake at night. Nightmares often plague your sleep and you're afraid to close your eyes some nights in fear that you'll wake up back in some HYDRA base. But most of the time it's the silence that keeps you awake. Because the silence screams the truth: _You'll never be okay again._

Just thinking about the past few sleepless nights make your heart ache in pain. As if suddenly feeling drained of all your energy and all that makes you human, you lean on Clint and rest your head on his shoulder, fixing your gaze on the metal surface of the floor. You want to be okay again. You really do. But you fear that you might never be the same. 

"You can sleep if you want," You hear Clint's gentle, yet scruffy voice. 

"Wake me up when we get there?" You murmur back, moving your left hand to rest on his forearm. 

"Mhm..." He hums softly. 

You gentle tighten your grip on his arm, afraid he might disappear if you close your eyes, and for a moment you feel like a helpless child- afraid of the dark, or rather, what hides in the dark. But after breathing in Clint's earthy scent and feeling his warmth presently against yours, you let your eyes close. As long as you can feel him- touch him, you feel safe. 

Words have led you astray too many times. You've learned to hold onto what's real and what isn't. 

But for some reason...even Clint doesn't feel real anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. I'm not dead. But I might as well be considering school has started. 
> 
> I am so terribly sorry for this long awaited update (and that it's so short) but I'm doing my best with the time that I have. Writing just might be harder than living!! Anyway, because of school, updates will definitely take longer than before. 
> 
> Don't worry! I'm not going anywhere- nor am I going to stop writing for this.


	9. Game Over

The quinjet suddenly shakes, waking you from your quiet slumber. As consciousness returns your eyes open slowly, blinking the sleep away. Once the blurriness fades and your vision is clear, you notice Sam is asleep in the seats across from you, Steve no longer beside him. You feel Clint's forearm, still beneath your hand, and slowly pull away from him. 

You glance at Clint who is asleep as well, his expression no different from when he's awake. You smile to yourself at the thought and then bring your arms above your head to stretch. That's when you see Steve emerge from the front of the quinjet, his eyes softening as he holds your gaze. "Hey," He greets you quietly with a light smile. You sheepishly avert your gaze, laying your hands to rest in your lap as he moves to sit across from you. "We'll be arriving in a few minutes."

You nod slowly, playing with your hands as you look out the window behind him. "S'cold," You murmur. 

"It'll be a warmer when we step outside," He tells you, tilting his head slightly as he watches you. 

Deciding it best to wake up a little more you stand on your feet and stretch once more. Your neck is a little sore from resting it on Clint's shoulder the way you did but don't regret getting the sleep you did. It was uncomfortable at times and it took you a while to actually fall asleep, but you round the time you slept to about three hours.

"Stealth mode is on. We're about five minutes out," Natasha calls from the front. "I'm going to drop you off on a building about a block away from the bar. Make sure your earpiece is in at all times and say when you're ready to be picked up."

Steve steps towards you, placing his earpiece in while holding out yours for you to take. "Here," He says quietly. 

You glance at the earpiece and then back at Steve, carefully taking it from him. Steve turns away from you to wake up Sam and as you put your earpiece in you notice Steve has changed into his suit. Not the one you're familiar with, but one close to it. Instead of wearing a dark navy blue suit with a gray star, Steve wears a dark blue suit with red and white striped designs and a white star. It's not one that you've seen before, but you have to admit...he looks pretty damn good in it. 

As you run your hands through your hair to fix whatever was messed up when you slept, you can't help but stare at Steve. Seeing him in tight shirts is one thing, but seeing him in a suit is something way different. 

Especially when it hugs his frame so nicely...

Once Sam is awake he stands up and stretches, heading to the front to discuss something with Natasha. Steve turns his attention back to the front, resting his hands on his belt as he watches the two. This isn't for long, however, because he seems to feel your gaze on him and turns, meeting your eyes. You immediately look at the floor.

You hear Steve shuffle his feet and before long he's standing in your line of vision, holding one of the bags Natasha brought in. You look up at him, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "What's this?" You ask in confusion.

"I didn't want you to have to wear one of your nice dresses for this mission..." Steve begins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at you and your eyes widen. "You didn't..." You mutter quietly, taking the bag from him.

"I had Stark buy a dress for the occasion," Steve admits, looking down at the floor. "I mean- I picked it out, but he bought it...I just didn't want one of your own dresses to get ruined for the sake of this mission." 

Although you're already surprised by his words, the moment you catch sight of the dress in the bag, you're completely at loss for words. You slowly turn around and lay the bag in your seat beside Clint, carefully pulling the dress from the bag. This is something you would have never expected, and the dress that you now hold in your hands is simple yet beautiful. 

The dress is completely black with no known design besides the slight frill of the lower half. Rather than hugging your thighs, the dress seems loose and extends outward. Hell, it even has pockets! It looks so comfortable...

Knowing there isn't a lot of time you turn away from Steve and set the dress down on your seat, beginning to take off your boots. When Steve notices what you're doing he raises his eyebrows and turns away. You slide out of your jeans and pull your sweater over your head, shivering as your bare skin is introduced to the cold air. Goosebumps run along your skin and you hurriedly begin to unzip the dress so you can put it on and feel the warmth of clothes once more.

"Hey, Rogers," You find yourself calling him, holding the front of your dress. 

Upon hearing your voice, Steve turns back around, showing you that his attention is yours. When he notices the back of your dress is unzipped, exposing your bareback and bra strap. Steve's lips part as he looks back at you, his eyes searching yours, and after a moment you look away, sweeping your hair to one shoulder. You feel Steve carefully grab the zipper of your dress and the opening where it starts, zipping it up slower than you would think is normal. A shiver runs up your spine and the goosebumps that had previously left return. 

Once your dress is zipped, you want to turn around, but find yourself frozen in your place, both you and Steve unmoving. 

Finally, after what feels like forever, Steve slowly lets go of your dress, his hands resting at his sides. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, feeling your heart beat faster than usual beneath your hands, and finally turn around.

Steve's eyes are solely on yours, a new and unreadable glint in his eyes. He almost looks awestruck, unable to say or do anything. You can tell multiple thoughts are running through his mind at this very moment, but he shares none of them. And just like that, this tiny fraction of a moment ends as the hatch of the quinjet opens, revealing the city of Milan behind.

"Alright, Sam- (Y/n). The target is just around the block," Natasha says as she spins around in the chair to look at you. 

You break eye contact with Steve and look at Natasha as if you're unsure of what just happened. You feel as if you've just been sucked back down to earth after having your head in the clouds for too long, but you quickly shake your thoughts and focus on what is about to happen. Sam fixes his coat collar and takes a gun from one of the three bags.

He places it in a holster behind his back, hidden beneath his coat and then offers one to you. "Keep it in your boot." 

You give a subtle nod in thanks and take the gun, stuffing it in your boot like he said to. It may not be the most comfortable but you wouldn't be able to get away with placing it anywhere else considering you're wearing a dress. You run your hands through your hair one last time before deeming yourself presentable to enter the bar. Sam leads the way and steps off the quinjet first, but before you can follow him, Steve catches your arm.

"Hey," He says gently, his voice sounding softer than usual, "Promise me you won't do anything reckless."

You carefully pull your arm away from his grasp, gazing into the depths of his blue eyes. "I'm not promising anything," You clarify as you take a step back. "You shouldn't worry about me, Rogers. It's pointless."

Steve parts his lips to say something else, perhaps to argue back or scold you, but before he can Sam speaks instead. 

"You coming?" He calls to you, "We gotta hurry before someone sees us."

Glancing over your shoulder you see Sam is already outside, standing on the roof of the building. You look back at Steve a moment longer before turning around and exiting the quinjet onto the roof. You take your place beside Sam, feeling refreshed by the warmth of the sun above you, ready to take on your mission. As the hatch of the quinjet closes, you catch one last glimpse of Steve. His expression may be unreadable, but his blue eyes shine brightly with uncertainty. 

Once the hatch closes Sam nods in the direction of the fire escape and the two of you begin to make your way over to it. "I have to agree," Sam mumbles as he looks over the edge down at the fire escape. "This does feel like a James Bond movie."

"Ladies first," You say as you smile sweetly at him.

Sam sends you a playful glare. "Very funny."

As Sam jumps down onto the fire escape you hear Natasha's voice in your ears.   _"Now, to get to the casino you're going to have to talk to the bartender. A lot of people from different races play at that casino so he shouldn't ask too many questions. We don't know how many guards are inside the casino either. Sam, do you have the money?"_ Natasha continues on. 

"Yep," He answers, patting his coat pocket which holds the money. 

_"Simply set the money down on the counter and the bartender should let you in."_

From there you and Sam hurry down the fire escape at a normal pace. The two of you are dressed pretty casually, Sam having sunglasses and a black jacket over a gray shirt and you having your simple black dress with boots. 

As the two of you make your way down the street, you can't help but think about Steve. There's something hiding behind those calm and tranquil eyes, blended and fading in the depths of blue, drowned out by the color. And although you're unsure of what you're feeling as you think about it, you're certain that you didn't feel this way before. 

When you turn the corner of the block you spot the bar, Silver Linings as Natasha had mentioned, on the other side of the street. You share a knowing look with Sam and then continue to follow his lead as you cross the street. 

On the outside, the bar looks like any other rugged building in the city, with many windows and an odd structure. However, the sign that holds the name of the bar looks fancy and smooth, glimmering like silver in the sunlight. You have a feeling that the interior of the bar is going to be a lot different than the exterior but as you draw closer, you think otherwise. 

Sam opens the door to the bar and lets you step inside before him. You keep your relaxed facade on but your eyes sparkle with curiosity at the plainness of the bar. In fact, it even looks rustic. Almost everything is wooden. 

 _"Ciao,"_ The bartender greets the two of you, his accent thick as he looks you up and down. "You are...American. No?"

"Yes, we are American," You say with a nod.

"Welcome to Italy."

You merely smile at him in response but the moment you look away it falls. You begin to scan the building as Sam leads you to a seat at the bar. He taps his fingers down on the counter as he waits for the bartender to come closer, his eyes looking around the building as well. "What brings you here?" The bartender asks as he walks towards you two.

Sam glances around to make sure nobody is looking before finally pulling the money out of his pocket and setting it down on the counter. The bartender's expression doesn't change, but his eyes shift from the money to Sam. 

"Head to the back," The bartender mutters under his breath, nodding behind him. "I'll have your chips."

Standing up in his seat, Sam looks back at you, trying to hide a smirk of confidence. He flips his coat collar up to look cool and begins to strut towards the end of the bar and behind the counter. You almost let out a laugh at his actions but hold it back and merely shake your head with a smile as you follow after him. Things are going to be interesting with Sam...

Sam aimlessly enters to the backroom where all the different beverages and glasses are stored, his eyes searching for any sign of movement. The deeper into the room you get, you begin to hear the faintest of music coming from the very back. 

"So what's the game plan?" You whisper as you grow closer to a black door with silver lining on it. 

"I'm terrible at gambling," Sam whispers back, "But I figure I can buy you enough time to get to the supplier."

You nod in agreement and the two of you stop at the door, looking to each other. "See what you can find out about the building," You tell him softly, "If you can't find any other exits besides the front we might be screwed."

"Meaning we'd have to fight our way out," Sam trails off, looking at the door with a sigh. 

"There's twelve people up here but we don't know how many there are down there," You remind him. 

"Stay close?" He suggests, looking back at you once more.

You nod firmly and offer the best smile you can, hoping to ease his nerves. If it's one thing you like about Sam that's different from the others, it's that he's not afraid to show he's scared. He doesn't wear a facade or hide his feelings behind a fake voice. He's real, and he's the most human out of all the team. And if you're being honest, you admire him. 

You don't have the strength to deal with feelings and emotions. Which is why you try and keep them behind a wall. 

Sam presses his hand against the door, and with a simple push, opens it up, revealing another bar. White lights flash in rhythm to the thundering music being played throughout the entire casino. It even looks a bit foggy. It's like you walked into an entirely different building with black walls and modern day structure. It looks nothing like the first bar. 

You glance over at the bar where multiple bartenders make drinks and then look to the large crowd of people dancing and swaying to the Italian style music. If you're being honest, this is one of the coolest bars you've been to. 

"We're heading to the casino," Sam says into his earpiece.

 _"Good work,"_ You hear Steve's voice for the first time in awhile. _"How's it looking in there?"_

As you slowly make your way towards the casino room with Sam, you pretend to look around aimlessly as if admiring the casino, but in reality, you're searching for more people that might pose a threat if you choose to leave with a bang. 

"There's too many people in here for me to get an exact count but there looks to be about five by the dance floor. One of the bartenders is looking pretty suspicious too but I can't know for sure." You reply after a moment. "There's three guards in the casino- big looking guys. We haven't made contact with the supplier but I have a feeling we're about to."

"Ready?" You ask, looping your arm through Sam's. 

"Hell no," Sam says with a laugh, "Let's just get this over with."

With a dignified look on your face and keen eyes, you walk beside Sam into the casino room which has its own bar and female servers. It seems that you're just in time for a new game and an empty seat at the end of the table awaits Sam. 

"Afternoon," The supplier at the other end of the table smirks, his accent thick but clear. "You are just in time for a new game, my friend," He says as he finishes stacking his chips. "I do not believe we have met, either."

"The names Bond," Sam says, lowering his voice. "James Bond."

Dear God, it takes all of your strength not to break your facade and laugh, as well as roll your eyes. Sam's words take you completely by surprise and you're just glad you're strong enough not to break your character. 

"Well, Mr. Bond," The supplier grins devilishly, "Welcome to  _Rivestimenti in Argento."_

He begins to pass out the cards and focus on the game, but his eyes manage to find you, standing beside Sam's seat. His dark brown eyes look you up and down, trailing up your legs to your impassive (e/c) eyes.

"Now shall we begin?" He asks, his eyes raking over your body one last time. 

You turn your head and look at Sam, knowing very well that poker is not the only game you're going to be playing tonight. 

Within a couple minutes, the game begins. It is well known by every man and woman at the table that the supplier is the king of this casino, including Sam. And the supplier knows this too, for his eyes are full of pride and the glow in his face is obviously caused by the majority of his wins and the money that he has. But this time things are going to be different. 

Before this game is at its end, you are going to be the one wearing the crown. 

As the game begins and progresses you find that Sam is actually doing well. He never keeps a straight face like he's supposed to and more than once you've pinched him to stop him from folding or to make him fold. Thankfully the supplier hasn't noticed any of those things, considering you've been distracting him the best you can. But you've used all your cards and must now use the only one you have left. Temptation. And you know for sure, this card is going to win it all. 

After another hour or so of playing, the supplier finally calls break. It's the perfect time to play your card. 

Seeing Sam anxiously shift in his chair, you decide to put an end to the game and raise your hand to your face, running your thumb over your warm, plush lips. The moment the supplier notices this, his eyes darken in the most unpleasant way. Deciding to make your move, you pretend to fix your hair and take the earpiece out of your ear. 

You silently drop the earpiece into Sam's lap and then begin to edge closer towards the other end of the table where the supplier is ordering a drink from one of the female servers. You just hope you can pull this off.

The supplier holds your gaze as you inch closer and smirks when you reach him. You lean down carefully and place one hand across him on the other side of the chair, using the other to turn his face towards you. He seems absolutely enchanted by you and his grin only widens as you lean in closer. But before you can whisper anything, his hand grabs your arm tightly, causing you to wince. You look at his hand in confusion and freeze when his lips suddenly brush against your ear. 

"You know..." He whispers, "Rumlow told me you might show up."

Your heart nearly stops. In an instance, the fire that was burning inside you is put out, your blood running cold. He tightens his grip on your arm and then pulls away, looking at you with a sinister smile. 

Fear has grabbed a tight hold of you, squeezing your lungs, making it hard to breathe- to even think. You want to yell at Sam to run. To give him his best chance at making it out of here, but your mind is lost and all you can think about is being taken away again by HYDRA.

Sam suddenly stands up from his chair, his wide eyes full of concern. He stares at the scene in front of him, unable to grasp what's happening. All he can see is your fear stricken body and the face of the enemy. 

"Game over, boys" He says as he stands to his feet. " **Game over**."


	10. Wishes

Steve paces around the quinjet, one arm over his chest, the other resting on it as he runs his thumbs over his lips. Natasha watches him in silence, waiting for something- anything, to happen. It's been two hours of radio silence since you and Sam entered the casino, having said that you were about to make contact with the supplier. 

Letting out a quiet groan Clint falls back into his seat and stares up at the ceiling, his head against the wall behind him. Next to him sits a near empty box of donuts, holding one single chocolate donut in it.

"They've been quiet for too long," Natasha suddenly says, standing up from her seat in the front. 

Steve pauses his pacing and turns back around to face her, slowly letting his arms fall to his sides. Clint doesn't move from his spot but he shifts his gaze to Natasha and watches as she begins to zip up her suit. 

"What are you doing?" Steve asks as his eyebrows knit together.

"I'm going in," She says firmly, "Since neither of you will."

Natasha begins to march towards the hatch, ready to open it when Steve grabs a hold of her arm and stops her. "We can't risk going in there, you know that," He states, his voice sounding stern but soft as he loosens his grip on her arm.

"What if Sam's in trouble?" She asks, careful not to raise her voice.

"What if he isn't? If you go in there now it might ruin any chances of them getting out okay."

"That's the thing, Steve. I'm not worried about "them"- I'm worried about Sam. And to me, we could have already ruined his chances of getting out okay by sending him in there with (Y/n)." She replies sharply. 

Clint, seeming tired of everyone else's wariness towards you, sighs quietly and closes his eyes. It's true that he and the others could not have gone inside without compromising the mission. But it's also true that this mission is a test. One to see if you're truly fit to work with others. If your decisions inside lead to selfishness, you'll be stuck with a babysitter. If your decisions lead to selflessness, even the smallest bit, you'll be able to work without someone keeping an eye on you.

Before Steve can say anything more the silence of his earpiece, as well as Natasha and Clint's, suddenly turns to static. All three of them freeze, Clint opening his eyes to look at Steve- and then Natasha. 

 _"Steve-"_  Sam's voice can be heard above the static and music of the casino.  _"St-eve."_

"Sam," Steve responds immediately, pressing two fingers to the com. "What's happening?"

_"St-e-ve. Steve, can you hear m-e?"_

"Yes," Steve says hurriedly as he picks up his shield off the seat. "Yes, I hear you. Sam, what's happening?"

 _"Y-ou need to get down here-"_  His voice is cut off by static,  _"We're in tr-"_

The rest of Sam's sentence is interrupted by complete silence. The line has gone dead. 

Clint is up on his feet within seconds, for once unarmed with his bow and instead with two guns. Natasha trails not far behind him, her eyes full of determination as she slams her hand down on the button that opens the hatch of the quinjet, but she makes no move to follow them outside. Someone has to stay behind just in case they run past plan B.

Whatever plan B is...

Knowing it's better not to say "I told you so" Natasha watches them exit the quinjet without saying anything. Steve glances back at her as Clint walks toward the fire escape. "Keep your earpiece in. Pick us up when we say."

"If you're not back in five minutes I'm going to drag your ass out of there," Natasha replies, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Steve turns back around and follows after Clint. He waits for Clint to jump down onto the fire escape first and then does the same. Before long the two of them are running down the rusty metal stairs, armed and ready for combat. As they make their way down the relatively empty streets, all Steve can think about it is the danger you're in.

He can only wonder what might have gone wrong. Perhaps they recognized Sam from the fiasco in D.C., or maybe somebody recognized you from your days as a HYDRA agent. Maybe you picked a fight you shouldn't have...

"Sam," Steve tries to reach him again through his earpiece. Then after a moment, he tries you. "(Y/n)?"

"It's no use, Cap," Clint tells him as they cross the street to the other side. "We've lost communication with them."

Steve glances at him and looks away, his jaw tightening. For once he would've liked a mission to go their way- without someone having to fight their way out. But it seems like his wishes are often never answered. 

Upon walking up a small hill Steve spots the bar not too far ahead and begins to pick up his pace. Before long he and Clint reach the rustic looking bar but when Clint tries to open the glass door the knob doesn't turn. It's been locked. Glancing at the large window of the building Steve notices a sign on the inside with the word "closed" written on it. 

"So much for trying to use the door," Clint mutters, taking a couple steps back. 

Using his shield Steve knocks the doorknob off and the screws fall out along with it. Seconds later he throws open the door and steps inside, Clint behind him. Hearing the noise, the bartender comes running from the back room, but just as he enters the room Steve throws his shield at him and the bartender is sent flying as the shield rebounds back. 

The few people who remain inside the bar are three average looking men but as they stand up from their seats they pull their guns. "I got 'em!" Clint calls to Steve as he pulls out a gun of his own, running to take cover behind the bar. 

"Find Sam and (Y/n)!"

Steve doesn't hesitate to do as he says and leaps over the bar counter, sliding over it onto the other side and into the back room, a couple bullets just barely missing him. Placing his shield on his back Steve strides towards the end of the room, his eyes solely on the black door in front of him with silver lining. He prepares himself for whatever is happening behind the door and without a moment's hesitation pushes open the door, stepping into what looks like another building. 

The door closes behind him and with wide eyes, Steve takes in his new surroundings. White lights flash almost like lightning, a fogginess spread out amongst the entire room whilst music fills his ears. This is something he's never seen before. The entire building before him is filled with people that are dancing and swaying to the music. 

Completely unaware of what's happening around them- and what's about to happen. 

Pushing past a couple people to get through to the bar, his eyes scan the room for any signs of danger but with the shadowed figures dancing so close together and the white lights obscuring his vision, he can't exactly focus. 

And that's when he sees it. 

Across the room, just past the dance floor, is what looks like another part of the building that has been separated from the rest. The area is lined with windows, but only black figures can be seen from the outside, the lights slowly changing colors behind them. Steve pauses, seeing two figures with guns run out of sight into the shadows, but his heart nearly stops when he sees two more men pass by, dragging away a womanly figure who struggles against them. 

Steve immediately runs towards the room where the casino lies, pushing past the people in the crowd to reach the door. To his surprise, the glass door has been shattered and as he steps inside, he catches sight of Sam. 

Sam struggles against another man, their hands both holding the same gun. After a moment Sam kicks him in the knee and the man's grip loosens as he cries out in pain. Sam kicks him once more and finally, the man stumbles back, leaving Sam with the gun in his hands. He shoots him once in the chest and then turns, noticing Steve in the doorway. 

"You made it," Sam breathes out as he cocks the gun. 

"The supplier," Steve says anxiously, "Where's the supplier?"

Sam nods in the direction where two men had dragged you away. "The supplier: he took (Y/n)." Steve looks to the open door on the left, clenching his fists tightly. "I'll explain later, go after them." Sam pants. 

Without another word Steve makes his way tot he next room, glancing back to see a couple more men pile into the room where Sam stands. Entering the next room, Steve finds himself in a hallway, near soundproof glass on either side of him. He looks into the room on his right. It looks like a private pool, with candles surrounding the area. 

And you are inside.

You look tired and worn but your movements are not slow. By the edge of the pool you manage to knock one man into the water but the supplier catches you off guard and punches you in the face, causing you to stumble into the wall. 

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door leading to the room you're in but when he puts his hands on the glass to push it open, it doesn't budge. He glances at the keycard lock to the side and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He steps back and raises his fist, prepared to break the glass and enter inside, but pauses when he meets your eyes. 

Upon noticing Steve you let go of your side, having been holding it in pain and look back at the supplier who is bringing his hand back to land another punch. You dodge carefully and by the time he throws yet another punch you're able to catch his fist. Then with your free hand, you sloppily punch him back and he stumbles backward. He slaps a hand over his eye and glares at you, but before he can make another move you spin around and jump up high enough to kick him. 

Your foot collides with the side of his face, knocking him into the wall. He then collapses on the ground and you stumble forward, nearly losing your balance and falling into the pool. Thankfully you steady yourself.

You meet Steve's eyes as you stand up straight, chest heaving as you gasp for air. 

Finally, after catching your breath, you break eye contact with him kneel down on one knee, swiping the supplier's card from where it lies beside him on the floor. Without saying or doing anything more you open the door for Steve and let him inside. He walks past you but moves to stand in front of you, his eyes searching yours.

"Hey," You say softly, wiping away the blood that had run from your nose to your upper lip. 

Steve looks you up and down, his eyes softening when he notices the few rips in your dress. He then smiles slightly and looks back at you again. "Good thing you didn't wear one of your own dresses," He says quietly. 

A corner of your mouth quirks up, a smile beginning to show, but your eyes soon find the body of the supplier lying behind him and you brush past Steve. "Let's finish this mission," You say with a dark glint in your eyes as you stand by the supplier. Steve follows after you and gives a firm nod, kneeling to pick the supplier up and throw him over his shoulders. 

"Clint and Sam are still inside," Steve tells you as you open the door for him and exit the room into the hallway. "Once we get outside I'll have Natasha bring the quinjet around." He glances at you. "What happened?"

You hadn't quite been prepared for this question and now that you've finally been asked it, you're not sure if you would have been able to. You don't know what happened. One minute everything was fine and the next it wasn't. But you do remember being the first person to throw a punch. What followed after is a blur of chaos. 

Taking your silence as an answer that you're not ready to talk about it yet, Steve looks forward once more and continues to focus on the task at hand. When the two of you enter the casino room Sam is gone and multiple men lie unconscious (or dead) on the floor. Two gun shots can be heard from outside the room and if they weren't already, people are beginning to flee the dance floor and exit through the door in a panic. Passing through the crowd is Clint, Sam not far behind him. 

Noticing the supplier Sam turns and motions for the door. "Come on, let's go!" He yells over the music. 

Steve hurries forward beside Sam and the two of them begin to make their way to the exit. Clint, however, makes his way towards you, concern lacing his every feature. "Hey," He says with a small smile. "You alright?"

"Yeah," You breathe out, nodding slowly as you walk beside him towards the exit. "You?"

"Better now that I know you are," He replies honestly, helping you weave through the crowd of people. 

Once you and Clint make it through the door into the back room a brighter awaits you, the new found light causes you to blink as you adjust to it. Amongst the frantic people that pour out of the bar, you and the boys walk in silence. The four of you stand on the sidewalk without looking back and Steve presses two fingers down on his com. "Natasha."

" _Steve,"_ Natasha replies almost immediately.  _"Everything alright?"_

"Yeah," Steve says as he lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze shifting to you. "Everything's fine."

Steve stares at you with an uncertainty in his eyes, feeling relieved that you were able to pull through and that Sam is fine as well. More than anything he's glad that you were able to bring the supplier to his knees. Now he can finally get answers on Rumlow- or he hopes to at least. But he still can't help but wonder why the supplier tried to leave with you.

Before long a gust of air washes over the four of you and the quinjet, no longer in stealth mode, appears in front of you. When the street is clear Natasha lands the jet and opens the hatch, standing stiffly in the open entrance.

"I see we won the prize," Natasha calls as you all climb into the quinjet. 

None of you respond. Once everyone is inside Natasha heads back to her seat in the front and Clint closes the hatch. Tired and exhausted from the mission you take your seat on the left and rest your head against the wall as you let your thoughts conspire. Steve leans the supplier against the wall by the seats and reaches into the bag beneath them to retrieve magnetic cuffs tighten if someone has threatening intentions and loosen if they do not.

The quinjet takes off in silence. Clint takes his seat beside you and Sam and Steve sit across from you. It seems that everyone has their own thoughts and take on the mission but the one thing you know they're all going to ask is "what happened". Even Sam isn't sure what exactly happened when you went to lead the supplier astray. 

All he remembers is the fear etched on your face when the supplier whispered in your ear. 

Then after a moment, you bit your lip and lift your head, looking over at Sam. You can't help but feel a bit guilty. If you hadn't frozen so helplessly back there Sam might've been able to get out sooner. He wouldn't have the bruises he has now if you had just been strong enough to hold back your emotions and figure out a new plan of action. 

"Sam," You say his name quietly, catching his attention. "Are you okay?"

Sam glances at Clint, unsure of what you're saying, and then looks back at you. "Yeah, I'm okay," He replies with furrowed eyebrows. "But I should be asking you that question. You were pretty shaken up back there."

You focus your gaze on the floor. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have frozen like I did."

"What'd he say to you?" Sam asks slowly, suddenly curious as he thinks back to the whole ordeal.

Steve looks between the two of you. "What are you talking about?"

"When she got up to lead the supplier out he told her something. Whatever it was must have thrown her off or something. Next thing I knew she had punched him right in the nose. The rest is a blur." Sam tells him. 

"So what?" Natasha suddenly scoffs as she turns around in her seat, looking back at all of them. "Your mission was compromised because he said something she didn't like and she punched him?"

"He knew we were coming," You say suddenly, your eyes still on the floor. 

"Who did?" Clint asks, "The supplier?"

You shake your head slowly and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees as you clasp your hands together. You look up and meet eyes with Natasha. "Rumlow," You say in a low voice, "He knew we were coming."

Steve looks at you seriously. "How do you know?"

"Because that's what the supplier said. He told me Rumlow said I would be there. That  _we_  would be there." 

"Look," Clint sighs, "It's been a long day. Maybe we should talk about this when we get back to the tower." 

Natasha stares at you for a moment longer before looking to the floor and turning back around in her seat to continue flying the quinjet. Everyone else seems in favor of talking about it when they're home but you have had enough time to think about what happened and you're ready to talk about the fact that Brock Rumlow led you into a trap. 

You look at Clint and part your lips, wanting to speak, but you pause when you notice his figure. He's stiff. He looks tired, mostly from sitting in the quinjet with nothing to do for so long. But the longer you gaze at him, your eyes taking in every detail of him, you slowly begin to realize why he shut you down so quickly. It wasn't because it's been a long day- because he wants you to rest and explain later. It's because he doesn't know if he believes you. 

Your lips form a thin line. You turn away from your friend and stare down at the floor. The cold air surrounds you like a suffocating bubble, and even though you're in the same space as the others, you feel alone.

Glancing up from the floor, you look at Steve through your lashes and meet his gaze. As you gaze into the depths of his blue eyes, you feel yourself drowning in the color, forgetting your surroundings as if you are the only two in the world. The memory of his hands lingering on your back after he zipped up your dress plays through your mind.

The fuzzy feeling of warmth that you felt before slowly begins to return, but when your mind focuses on the present and the uncertainty in his eyes begins to show, the feeling is killed. 

Too much has happened today for you to know where you stand and how you feel. But one thing is for certain. You had hoped that after the mission you would have been able to return to the quinjet and greet Steve with a smile. You had hoped that you would have been able to eat donuts beside Clint and tell the others about Sam's funny moments in the bar. To have been able to do something right and be praised for it. But your wishes are often never answered, either.


	11. Two Broken Puppets

You sit stiffly with your back against the cold metal wall of the quinjet. You don't know when you started moving further away from Clint, but somehow, inch by inch, you managed to create a small distance between you two. 

You're not upset. You could never be upset with Clint. He's one of the only people who truly know you. He truly cares about you. You live in your own little world, one where you're the only person that exists. One where you're the only person that can get hurt. Clint is lucky enough to see your world, but you don't want to risk letting him in. 

Your eyes, which have been trained on the floor, wander towards the two people sitting across from you. Sam sits in silence with his body tiredly slumped against the wall behind him while Natasha bandages a gash on his arm. 

You don't blame them for not believing you. You're not even sure if you believe yourself.

It's hard to believe that Brock Rumlow somehow managed to figure out what your plans were for this mission and even harder to believe that he would risk his supplier for the slim chance that you might be there for the taking. And that's another thing that you can't make sense of, as much as you want to. Why would Rumlow want you?

Raising your arm you hesitantly bring your hand up to your face and carefully run your fingers over a forming bruise on your cheek. You barely wince at the pain and cup your cheek tenderly, refraining a heavy sigh. 

After double checking to make sure the quinjet is still on auto-pilot, Steve emerges from the front, his wandering eyes finding your place a couple feet away from Clint. You're completely unaware of his gaze and the expression you wear now is one Steve has never seen before. This is what you look like when you think no one is looking- when you think no one cares- and it is real and heartbreaking. Your facade is beginning to wear thin.

Steve silently walks past you but you pay no mind to him until he sits in the space that is separating you and Clint. For a moment you ignore him as he messes with something underneath his seat, but grow curious and catch a glimpse of a red cooler and ice. You watch him pull an ice pack from the cooler and meet his eyes as he turns to face you. 

There's something different in those blue eyes of his that you've learned to love. Something deeper than guilt or sympathy and compassion. It's almost soothing. This time, when he reaches out to you, you don't pull away. 

Steve gently takes your hand off of your cheek and glances at the bruise tainting your skin. Then, with the most careful hand you've ever seen, he presses the ice pack to your cheek. You don't flinch at the cold or move away despite the pain. You simply stare at him in absolute wonder. After every suspicion, why is he so kind to you..? 

Steve holds your gaze and within a heartbeat, it feels as if the tiniest flame has lit up in your heart. 

Averting your eyes shyly you look to the floor, replacing his hand on the ice pack with yours. You hate that you notice how your fingers brush his but before you can even think or wonder about your current feelings and thoughts, a shrewd laugh pierces the silence within the quinjet and everyone's eyes turn to fall upon the supplier. 

His eyes are narrow with spite, a hatred burning in his eyes for everyone single one of you in the space before him. Dried blood coats his lips and nose as well as his chin. He does not look like a happy person. 

"They say silence can speak more than words," He sputters out, revealing a couple of bloodied teeth. "And in this case, your silence says more than enough. For a team of friends you guys really do not get along."

Natasha casts a glance towards you and you catch it but say nothing in return. Steve stands up, his stature stiffening as he steps into the middle of the quinjet, eying the supplier carefully. His cuffs are still on and they haven't tightened since he has woken up from his "sleep". The supplier's eyes then land on you and his smirk only widens. 

"And now I see  _why_  you do not get along." 

Steve glances back at you but you don't react to his words. You merely stand up, more alert now that he is conscious. The supplier gives you a good once over before glancing around at the others. Sam and Natasha are sitting sternly in their seats and Clint looks as if he's ready to stand up along with you and Steve, but doesn't. 

"So what Rumlow said is true," The supplier continues, looking back to you. "You are working for the Avengers."

"Rumlow seems to be telling you a lot of things," Steve says in a low voice, inching closer with closed fists. 

"Mind sharing?" Sam asks, arching an eyebrow. 

The supplier stares at Steve and then glances at you before offering a lazy shrug. Now it's your turn to say something. Stepping past Steve you move towards the supplier and where he sits on the floor, his legs lying spread out on the floor in front of him, his hands cuffed in his lap. "How did Rumlow know about our plans?" You ask sharply. 

"People talk," He says casually, staring up at you with narrow eyes. 

"So will you," Natasha shoots back in a threatening tone of voice. 

After a moment the supplier looks between each one of your faces and then focuses his attention back on you. "Why did you stay behind if you knew we were coming for you? Why would Rumlow risk it?" You press. 

A certain glint is visible in his eyes as he smirks at you but it's impossible to tell what he could be thinking. Before you can repeat your question or the supplier has time to reply, Natasha stands up. "Why now has Rumlow come out of hiding?" She asks, her voice laced with true confusion and wonder. "Why has he waited so long?"

The supplier merely looks at you. "HYDRA is growing stronger," He says slowly, his accent thick and his voice low and hushed. "Smarter too. If you could only  _see_  the wonders of our work." His eyes are solely on you. 

"HYDRA's dead," Steve states firmly, sharing a quick look with you. 

"Dead?" The supplier repeats, grinning wildly. "HYDRA is more alive now than ever," He eyes are smiling at you.  _Laughing_. "And as long as HYDRA is alive, (Y/n) will always be one of us.  _HYDRA is in her blood_."

Your hands tighten into fists, your heart beating steadily within your chest, growing stronger with every beat. His words are getting to you. They shouldn't but are they are. You're supposed to be stronger than this, but somehow you feel scared. What if he's right? What if HYDRA is always going to find a way to reach you? What if you can't escape?

Clint notices your stiffness and finally stands to his feet, looking at you with careful and thoughtful eyes. He knows what's going through your head. He knows your mind and your thoughts and your fear. 

"You are nothing more than a puppet," The supplier hisses, his eyes burning with a specific hatred towards you. 

"Shut up," You breathe out, feeling your thoughts begin to scrape against your mind. Your heart is aching. You can barely think. You only feel the same burning hatred that he feels. It's  _corruptive_. 

Clint raises his hand and reaches out to you, saying your name quietly, but you don't hear him. 

"You can never be free," The supplier continues, a taunting glint in his dark eyes. "You are our broken puppet. And we still know how to pull your strings..." He locks eyes with Steve. "...Just like the Winter Soldier."

In an instance, Steve's fist collides with his face, his nose crackling beneath his knuckles. 

The supplier's head falls forward, his consciousness lost, and Steve slowly brings his fist back to hold his now blood covered hand. His breath is heavy, an unreadable expression on his face as he stares down at the hostage. Then after a moment, he composes himself and takes a step back, looking to you almost instinctively. 

Clint gently grabs your arm and steps in front of you, his eyes soft with concern. "Hey," He says quietly, using his other hand to cup your cheek and make you look at him. "Hey, you alright?" He tries again.

Your thoughts are still screaming at you, but they seem to fade when you finally meet eyes with Clint, feeling dazed. The rising hatred inside you dissolves and you try and focus on Clint and his words. His hand is on your cheek. Your bruise stings... At least you're feeling pain. Your heart is racing. Why is it beating so loudly?

As if being brought back to the real world, you find yourself gazing into Clint's worry filled eyes, his forehead creased and his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "You alright?" He repeats again but softer. 

You nod slowly and shakily step back. His hand falls from your cheek and you miss its warmth. He slowly guides you back to the seats and you sit down beside him. "I'm fine," You say finally, "I'm fine."  _You're not fine._  But you want to be. You still can't shake your fear. Your pain. But you don't want to think about it. About anything.

Steve turns and looks at you worriedly, sharing a certain look with Natasha and Sam. They're not exactly sure what's caused you to be so shaken, but they have a few ideas. If you are a broken puppet, was he pulling your strings just then? 

Clint moves to reach out to you but you're not ready to be touched again. You pull your arm away from him before he can reach you and shake your head. "I'm fine," You repeat firmly. You feel better at least.

Your heart is beating slower now. Steadier. But it's still missing beats. 

The rest of the ride back to New York is quiet.

The others seem to be mulling over what happened and Steve hasn't loosened up since the supplier mentioned Bucky. You can only assume that he's thinking Rumlow might know where Bucky might be or that Rumlow has Bucky. You can't know for sure. Steve is hard to read sometimes. So maybe he isn't predictable. Just his breakfast is. 

You haven't recovered from what the supplier said to you. That HYDRA's growing stronger; smarter. He mentioned that they've come across something amazing in their work. You assume it has something to do with Rumlow and his mechanics. Hopefully you'll know more by tomorrow when the team decides to try and get some real answers. By the time you return to the tower with the others it's around 10 PM. Not much time has passed since then. 

Ever since you returned you've all been in the shared research lab of the Avengers next to the infirmary. 

Clint mentioned that Bruce and Tony were downstairs, probably working in their own "science bro" lab, as Sam had called it. But other than that, he hasn't really spoken to you. No one has. Everybody's too worn to say anything. 

The supplier, who you've taken as a hostage, sits leaning against the wall, his hands still cuffed.

Sam finishes cleaning himself up in the infirmary and slides off the medical table to see what Natasha is doing on the computers. Clint, however, stays in the infirmary with you while you sit on the counter in silence. You haven't bothered to clean yourself up or take any medication to help with the pain. You rarely do. Clint doesn't understand why and tried to look at your wounds but you didn't let him. You're not in that bad of shape, really.

You believe it's better to feel pain than nothing. You don't want to go numb. You want to feel human.

Finally deciding to break the silence Clint pushes himself off the counter and stretches tiredly, refraining a yawn. He turns around and looks up at you, an unreadable glint in his eyes as he stares at your small, broken figure. 

He says nothing to you and takes his leave, exiting the infirmary without so much as a back glance. 

You continue to stare at the floor, acknowledging his leave silently. Uncomfortable in your position on the counter you lean your back against the wall, listening to the whispers of the others in the room beside you. 

"-doesn't make sense," You hear Steve's hushed voice. "How could they have known we would be there?"

"There's no way Rumlow could have known our entire plan," Natasha says in agreement, "If Rumlow really did tell the supplier we were coming he wouldn't have stayed. Which means he knew that Sam and (Y/n) were the only two going in."

"Even if it was just Sam and (Y/n) don't you think he still would have taken off?"

Sam shakes his head slowly. "They wanted (Y/n)," He says quietly, "They tried to leave with her."

"Why would they want (Y/n)?" Clint asks, his voice suddenly sounding more awake.

The voices are quiet for a moment. Before you might have felt your heart sinking, but now you feel nothing. You're prepared for whatever they have to say about you. You've just stopped caring. 

"No," Clint says sharply, breaking the silence. "Absolutely not."

"There's no other explanation, Clint," Natasha replies quietly.

"I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. (Y/n) would never risk the lives of this team."

"She barely knows us," Natasha argues, "And we barely know her-"

"She's not working for Rumlow, Natasha. There's no way."

You close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you. So maybe you weren't completely prepared for their words. She's suspected you of working for Rumlow before, but somehow this feels different.

"I don't know," Sam says slowly, "That doesn't seem right..."

"You're defending her?" Natasha asks softly.

"She's a part of our team. Whether we like it or not. And what I saw down in that casino- she looked scared; helpless even. It just doesn't seem right that she'd be working with Rumlow." He sighs.

"Rumlow knew we were going to be at that bar. He knew that Sam and (Y/n) were going in alone-"

"We don't know that," Steve finally sighs, contributing the conversation. 

"Am I the only one thinking straight?" Natasha asks, making sure not to raise her voice. "What if Rumlow has come out of hiding because (Y/n) has? Clint, you and I both know they were practically inseparable before HYDRA fell apart. What if she leaked our plans to Rumlow in hopes that the supplier would take her to him?"

"That's bullshit, Natasha!" Clint suddenly yells, slamming his hands down on the computer desk. 

This catches your attention as well. Opening your eyes you finally decide to leave the infirmary. You slide off the counter and tighten your hands into fists before loosening them. With one hand on your abdomen and the other at your side, you exit the infirmary and step out into the room with the others. The tension is thick- almost electrifying. 

The others fall into immediate silence, everyone's eyes on you. Clint's hands slide off the desk, falling to his sides as he stares at you. His chest heaves ever so lightly with every ragged breath he takes, his anger fading. 

They gaze upon you with uncertain and weary eyes. They too have a tiredness that weighs them down, but you look worse than the rest of them. The dress you loved so much is now torn and your wrists are painted with bruises from when you were dragged away from Sam. Your lips are cracked and dried blood taints their color. But the most noticeable thing of all is the light that is missing from your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you look to the door.

And in silence, you walk away. 

Picking up your clothes off one of the computer desks you head for the door and leave the tension filled room. The others watch you leave from their place in the middle of the room, feeling various emotions as you disappear. When your figure vanishes through the doorway Clint looks to Natasha. "She is  _not_  working for Rumlow."

"We don't know that Clint," Natasha sighs, "I'm not trying to be the bad guy here- I don't  _want_  to be the bad guy, but we have to remember that we don't know anything about her past. We don't know anything about her."

"Do you know what I remember?" Clint asks, his anger fading into sadness. "That night Fury sent me to kill her I found her in an alleyway kneeling in a puddle of rain water, furiously washing her perfectly clean hands as she cried. And do you know what she kept telling me over and over again? That the blood wouldn't wash off."

Natasha looks away, leaning against the computer desk as she stares thoughtfully at the floor. Clint's voice carries on, "HYDRA broke her, Natasha. In the worst possible ways. And Rumlow was no exception."

At this point, everyone is silent. Multiple thoughts are running through everyone's heads. There are questions they would like to ask and answers they desperately want, but the team finally settles down and the tension dies. A new atmosphere is created. Natasha looks at Clint with apologetic eyes. She really doesn't want to be the bad guy.

"Why does Rumlow want (Y/n) so badly? Why would he risk his supplier? Tell me why Rumlow would risk everything for (Y/n) without even knowing if she would be there or not." Natasha whispers. 

Clint swallows thickly, his fists tightening at his sides as he stands defenseless before her. The truth is, as much as he wants to believe you didn't leak information to Rumlow, he doesn't have any other explanation.

 

* * *

 

You take a taxi home, although you barely have any money on you. Your apartment is only 11 blocks away from the tower, which you find is a despicable irony. To think that all these months you had been hiding from S.H.I.E.L.D. you had been living 11 blocks away from the Avengers. But your thoughts don't linger on this too long, for the taxi stops. 

You open the door to the taxi and step out into the night, carrying your clothes. You drop them on the ground and sigh, picking up your wallet. Without a single care, you throw the wallet through the taxi window.

The taxi man greedily snatches the wallet in the passenger seat and stuffs it in his pocket before driving away. You pay no mind to the taxi as it speeds off and bend down to pick up your clothes. Your steps are slow and painful, your abdomen aching from a rather large bruise you received earlier today whilst fighting against the supplier.  

Walking up the steps to your apartment you think back at the day and feel your heart continuing to sink. 

Once you're inside you don't bother with the clothes in your hands and simply drop them on the floor, standing in the dark of your apartment. You slowly press one hand on the door to steady yourself and use the other to take off your boots, feeling your weariness begin to wash over you. When you stand up again, you let out a heavy sigh, slowly turning around. 

And that's when you see him. 

Standing in the shadows of your apartment is the man you thought you'd never see again. The moon and stars provide just enough light for you to see him, illuminating some of his most prominent features. Even in the dark, you can see his piercing blue orbs, like shards of ice crystals trapped within a kaleidoscope of secrets and mysteries.

With every slow and agonizingly painful step you take towards him, your chest grows tighter, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. Your mind is spinning, your heart is racing; you can barely believe your eyes. 

 _It's a dream_ , you tell yourself,  _it's a dream_. But the closer you get the more real it feels. 

You extend a shaky hand and reach out to touch him- to know if he's really there if he's even real, and he doesn't budge. Your hand gently rests on his chest, your cold fingertips meeting the warmth of his body. You can feel his heartbeat- you can practically hear it. He's real. He's real and he's alive and he's standing before you.  _He's real_.

All at once your emotions begin to overwhelm you, tears blurring your vision as you hold back a soft cry. Your body begins to shake through the intensity of your emotions and you stumble back, falling helplessly to your knees. 

"James," You say his name breathlessly. "You came back..."

You lift your head and look up at him through your tears, your hands shaking in your lap as you try desperately to hold back your sobs. "You came back," You repeat, your voice breaking with emotion. "You came back..."

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks, dropping into your hands as you repeat the words over and over. They fall from your lips as freely as your tears fall from your eyes, unable to stop them from flowing. His expression changes, his eyes softening as he stares down at you, his heart breaking at your words. Until finally-  _finally_ , he moves towards you, kneeling down on one knee as he pulls you into his arms. You don't pull away, or fall into him, you simply cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so our story truly begins....


	12. The Promise

You shift quietly in your place on the couch, your legs pulled up to fit in the limited space you have. You grip the soft white blanket and pull it closer towards you, embracing one last moment of warmth before you open your eyes and move to get up. Your bare feet hit the cold hardwood of the floor, your thoughts slowly gathering. You glance at the clock. 9:23 AM.

Standing up you leave your blanket on the couch and wrap your arms around yourself in spite of the cold. You glance out the windows of your apartment to see a clear morning sky and find yourself staring hazily out at the city below.September is finally here but fall is yet to come. The weather outside must be cold, otherwise, you wouldn't see so many people below wearing long sleeve shirts and jackets. However, the sun shining down on them leads you to believe that somehow it's still warm. 

Slowly turning around, you face the stairway and feel your heart beginning to ache. You stand in the still of the silence, your focus trained on the room beyond the stairs. Your eyes trail over the metal railing until you reach the top. With clear thoughts and a quiet mind, you slowly walk towards the stairs and begin to make your way up. 

You have to make sure, you tell yourself. You have to know. 

Slowly you climb the stairs, step by step, wondering if the past few days have been real. You cling onto the smallest bit of hope although you know it's foolish and listen to the rhythmic beat of your heart to drown out your thoughts.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you hold your breath. 

Your eyes do not deceive you. 

Beneath the snow white covers of your bed with his dark hair in disarray and his face shielded by the blanket, Bucky sleeps lightly in the warmth that surrounds him. Your mind is clear but your thoughts are still clawing.  _He's real_ , you tell yourself.  _He's real._ And yet you still continue to move forward, as if you don't trust your mind to distinguish what's real and what isn't anymore.

Kneeling by his bed side you lean back on your legs and rest your hands in your lap. Shame washes over you like a cool, gentle breeze and you can't help but feel selfish as you extend your arm out to touch him. You've done this every morning for the past week. You hate to wake him, and you know you're going to, but you just have to make sure...

You carefully rest your hand on his cheek, his light stubble tickling your senses. Feeling the warmth of your palm, Bucky slowly opens his eyes and stares at you through a few stray strands of hair.

His eyes reflect the relief in yours and you smile apologetically at him. 

"Is something wrong...?" He asks tiredly. 

You pull your hand back and let it rest in your lap as you shake your head gently. "No. I was just..." You continue to hold your smile, hoping your pain doesn't show. "Are you hungry?" 

Bucky hums and closes his eyes, brushing the hair in his face away as he rolls onto his back to stretch. 

"I'll take that as a yes," You say quietly, hurrying to stand. "French toast?" 

"And bacon..." He murmurs, pulling his covers back to get up. 

You smile to yourself as you turn away and head back downstairs. Bucky watches your retreating figure and then glances back down at the place you had been kneeling, his thoughts uncertain. He stands up and continues towards the bathroom, raising his hand to run his fingers along his cheek as he wonders why you had looked so shaken. 

It's been nearly a week. Are you holding onto the fear that he's going to leave you?

By the time Bucky has finished taking a shower and has thrown his hair into a messy bun you are just beginning to cut the fruit. The bacon resides on the griddle and the french toast beside it. The plates have been placed on the counter at the bar and a hot mug of coffee awaits Bucky's cold hands. You've been making breakfast for him the past week as well as lunch and dinner. There were times that you took him out to eat but you prefer cooking so that he feels at home.

"I'm running low on food," You tell Bucky as he makes his way down the stairs. "Sometime after breakfast I'm going to go shopping just to get it over with. I was thinking about making steak and mashed potatoes for dinner."

"You don't have to do that, (Y/n)," Bucky says gently as he picks up his coffee mug.

You glance up from the fruit you're cutting as if to say you're not following. 

"You don't have to cook for me," He clarifies, the smallest smile of gratitude tugging at his lips, "I'm happy eating Chinese take out and frozen pizza. I'm happy just being here with you- and having a place to sleep."

You smile at the memory of you and Bucky arguing over who was going to stay on the couch. You had insisted he take your bed and he strongly disagreed but in the end, you won the argument and forced him to take the bed. You've been saving up money for a new bed but you're not sure if you should buy anything permanent...

"Would you mind if I went shopping with you?" Bucky asks suddenly. 

You put the fruit in a glass bowl and turn to face Bucky, a metal spatula in your other hand. "What?" You say puzzledly, "You want to go shopping with me?" You repeat, a curious twinkle in your eyes. 

Bucky averts your gaze. 

You've been taking him places to make him feel more like a regular person but you haven't thought of taking him grocery shopping. You took him for a picnic in the park a few days ago and the two of you have visited the movie theater once or twice. And Bucky's not the only one who gets to feel normal. You do too. 

However, the unreadable expression on Bucky's face tells you that this isn't the case this time. And that's when you realize he just doesn't want to leave you alone. He's afraid something bad will happen to you.

"Nothing's going to happen to me." You tell him softly, setting the bowl of fruit down on the counter. 

"We don't know that." He replies in a low voice. 

"I'm safe here, James." You sigh as you move a piece of french toast onto his plate. 

"What's going to happen to you when Steve finds out you've been lying to him from day one?"

"Steve wouldn't-" As soon as you find the words falling from your lips you avert your gaze and fall silent. What are you saying? What are you  _thinking?_   If Steve found out you've been lying to him about Bucky you honestly don't know what he'd do. There's a part of you that hopes he could forgive you but you know that's not true. 

Steve barely trusts you now. You can't even imagine what would happen if he uncovered your lies. 

Taking your silence as an answer that he's won the argument, Bucky decides to drop it and eat his food. With his metal hand, he reaches over and takes a strip of bacon from the griddle. This does not go unnoticed by you. 

"You could at least wait until I'm done," You say defeatedly with a smile. 

Bucky doesn't respond and the silence leaves you to wonder what kind of danger you've gotten yourself into. 

"Can you buy more ramen noodles?" Bucky asks as if he didn't hear you. 

"If you promise to follow the directions on the package this time."

You steal a quick glance at Bucky and refrain from grinning when you catch him sulking grumpily. You turn off the griddle and place the remaining food on the two plates. "I did follow the instructions..." You hear him mutter. 

"James," You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, "Not only did you put the ramen in a plastic container but you forgot the water and put it in the microwave for seven minutes! I don't think that's in the instructions."

Bucky brings his coffee mug to his lips, avoiding your laughing eyes. "It wasn't that bad."

"It caught on fire!" You exclaim in pure amusement. "The container melted and when you tried to pick it up the flaming noodles fell right through to the floor and scorched the wood!"

"Not another word, (Y/n)," Bucky grumbles, his voice muffled by the mug. "Not another word."

Your smile only widens and for once in a long time, you feel a real happiness inside you. You cheerfully begin to dig into your food, your argument with him already forgotten and the fear of Steve turning on you long gone. It's been so long since you've seen Bucky and the fact that the two of you are able to sit down and eat breakfast like you are now, warms your heart. After everything-  _everything_  that has happened, the two of you finally feel free. 

Once the two of you finish off your breakfast you begin to wash the dishes and Bucky helps you by drying and putting them away. While the two of you are busy working away, you hear someone knock on the door. 

Not expecting company, the two of you freeze. 

Bucky looks over at you, his jaw tightening. All softness in his expression is replaced by a serious stone hard one, his eyes holding the slightest concern. He instinctively reaches at his side for a gun but grabs air. Looking down he realizes he still hasn't put on any clothes besides the new underwear you bought him. 

"Where are my clothes?" Bucky whispers to you, his voice barely audible. 

The person behind the door knocks once more. 

You nod in the direction of the washer. He must have forgotten to put them in the dryer last night. 

Bucky hurries up the stairs for a gun and you silently make your way towards the door. It doesn't matter if it's a friend or foe. If anyone finds out you're hiding Bucky in your apartment, your life, as well as his, could be at risk. 

You unlock the door cautiously, feeling bare without any weapons on you. You prepare yourself to face whoever it is behind the door and then open it slowly, blocking their view from seeing inside the apartment. Your eyes widen at the sight of Steve, standing sheepishly outside on your porch. Your breath is stolen and your heart nearly misses a beat.

"(Y/n)," Steve says your name quietly, looking you up and down for a quick second.

"Rogers," You breathe out, barely hearing your own voice over the sound of your heartbeat in your ear. 

He clears his throat, biting back a small smile as he looks at you, "You're not going to...close the door on me, are you?"

The faint memory of you slamming the door on Steve a while back flashes through your mind and you subconsciously glance to down at your clothes. The last time Steve visited you had no clothes on and the two of you ended up on the floor...

You look up at him, still unable to shake the panic you're feeling. "You should go," You say almost too calmly. 

Glancing behind you, you spot Bucky in the living room, gun lowered, concern lacing his features.

Steve's lips part slowly, his words lost. He hadn't expected that response. It almost looks as if disappointment flashes in his eyes but it disappears as quickly as it had shown and his shoulders droop slightly. "Oh..."

The look on Steve's face tugs at your heartstrings and you can't help but think he resembles a puppy who has lost his favorite ball. 

"I'm just-" You struggle to find the words, wondering what you could possibly say to him. "I'm not feeling well. I'd hate to get you sick." You lie slowly, hoping he believes the shakiness in your voice is fatigue and not fear.

Steve's face instantly changes to one of concern, his blue eyes deepening as they soften. God, you could drown in the color of his eyes. You could get lost in the depths of blue. It feels like you haven't seen him in so long and the true worry in his face makes you feel as if you might actually matter to him. You close your eyes and drown out your thoughts once more.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, moving closer. 

You feel his hand push the door open a little further and your eyes snap open. "I'm fine," You say quickly, holding the door tightly in your hands to prevent him from opening it any wider. "Don't worry about me. I'm not worth it."

Steve looks as if he's going to protest against your words, but his eyes catch sight of something behind you and his expression changes to one of slight confusion. You feel numb. Frozen in place. You hope with every fiber of your being that he doesn't see Bucky. You're praying he doesn't see anything that might make him curious. But he does. "Is there someone else here?" 

The moment he asks this question you feel dread sink into your skin. "No," You lie once more, "It's just me."

"If there's no one else here I'm afraid to ask what that is," Steve says, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

Trying to mask your fear, you slowly glance over your shoulder, suddenly feeling confused by his words. And that's when you see him. Bucky has abandoned his gun and taken your blanket from the couch which he has draped over himself, hiding everything except his feet. He nearly trips going up the stairs and then vanishes in the room above you. 

You glance back at Steve and hurriedly step out onto the porch. Steve steps back to make room for you. "Let's talk outside," You murmur weakly as you close the door behind you and take your place in front of him on the porch. 

"Who was that?" Steve asks, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

"Boyfriend," You say after a moment, watching him carefully to see his reaction.

The twinkle of amusement disappears from Steve's taunting blue eyes. A sudden seriousness washes over him and he looks at the ground, folding his arms over his chest. "Oh," He breathes out softly, "I...I didn't realize-"

"Relax, Rogers," You smile weakly, "I'm just kidding. That was my land lord."

He looks back up at you. "Your land lord?" 

"Yes, my land lord," You continue on with your lie, "She's an odd one, but she was kind enough to clean up the house since I'm not feeling well." It's a stupid lie but what else can you say? 'Sorry that was Bucky. He left his clothes in the washer overnight so he's naked.'

"Are you sure you're okay?" Steve asks, already forgetting that you lied about having someone else in your apartment. 

"I'm fine, Rogers. Nothing rest can't fix," You pause and then lean against the door, curious as to why he has stopped by. Is he here to ask more questions about Rumlow? About the supplier? "So why are you here?" You ask quietly. 

"I just...wanted to see you," He confesses without hesitance. "I also have some files for you to look through."

You try to ignore his first statement but his words only cause your heart to ache. What does he mean? What is he saying? You quickly push away your thoughts. You hadn't noticed it before because you were so afraid that Steve would see Bucky but Steve holds a couple of folders in his left hand. "Okay," You say with a sigh, looking back up at him carefully. 

"I guess I'll be going," Steve states as he rubs the back of his neck gently. "Are you sure you don't want anything? Coffee? Tea?"

You can't help but smile at his words. All of your fear dissolves at his concern.

"I can make chicken noodle soup?" He says slowly, reflecting your smile. 

"Goodbye, Rogers," You say as you take the files from his hand and open the door behind you. 

Steve begins to walk down the stairs backward, his eyes solely on yours as he retreats. Without looking back you turn around and step inside, about to close the door when you suddenly hear him call out to you. "(Y/n), wait-"

You turn back around, raising your eyebrows to show he has your attention. 

"I'm sorry about the other night," He says softly, "I know you're not working for Rumlow- We all know that." You avoid his eyes and look at the ground, holding the folders to your chest. "We just couldn't believe that he-"

"When are you going to trust me?" You ask suddenly, interrupting his words. You look up from the ground and meet his eyes with a sudden coldness. "I have done  _everything_ in my will to prove myself to you, but nothing I do is good enough." You turn away from Steve's guilt filled eyes and grip the folders tighter. "Save your breath, Rogers. Just leave."

You hear Steve utter your name but before you have time to listen you step inside and close the door behind you, leaving Steve standing alone on your porch. You hate him. God, you hate him but at the same time...

You press your back against the door and stare at the folders in your hands as if you still can't believe what just happened. Reality begins to sink in and you let out a deep, shaky breath. That was close. That was too close. You lift your eyes from the folders and meet Bucky's gaze, his eyebrows furrowed. He drops the blanket and hurries over towards you.

"What happened?" Bucky asks anxiously, his voice low and hushed. 

You begin to shake, gripping the folders tightly. "I lied to him. He left."

"We need to be more careful," Bucky sighs, turning his back on you as he walks towards the living area. 

You set the folders on the counter and run a shaky hand through your hair. You nod silently in agreement. Of course, Bucky had considered staying somewhere else but the two of you decided to take the risk of staying together. The two of you really never spoke about why you decided to take such a high risk but at the same time, you both understand. 

"What was he doing here?" He asks, sitting on the arm of the couch. "What did he want?"

You nod in the direction of the folders, "He said-"

_"I just...wanted to see you."_

"He said he had some folders for me to look through. There's probably another mission coming up." You say quietly.

"He tried to apologize for the other night, didn't he?" 

You avert your gaze, feeling bitter again. "He doesn't trust me."

"He will," Bucky says slowly, standing back up. "I did."

"That's different," You sigh, turning your back on him to pour yourself another cup of coffee.

Bucky silently follows you into the kitchen and leans against the counter with his hands folded over his chest. You turn back around to face him and take a long sip of your lukewarm coffee. You told Bucky that you're working with Steve the first morning you woke up with him. You filled him in on everything that happened since he left, leaving out the first few months when Clint took you in and pulled you from your ruins. Bucky already feels bad for leaving you behind, you don't want him feeling any worse.

You told Bucky you've been doing well. That you were fine the first few months of your freedom and that you've been fine ever since. You never once mentioned your hallucinations, your nightmares, or mental breakdowns.

You care more about Bucky's feelings than your own. 

"He was wrong, (Y/n)," Bucky says suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You're not HYDRA."

Immediately, you know what he's talking about. The supplier. HYDRA. 

"I know that," You tell him quietly, "But he's right about everything else. As long as HYDRA is alive, we're both in danger. We're puppets, James. With a few simple words, they can tighten your broken strings and have full control over you again."

"You're...talking about the book, aren't you?" Bucky asks in a low voice.

"As long as HYDRA's alive; as long as they have that book...You're not free."

"But you are," He argues softly, moving closer towards you. "You're free, (Y/n). HYDRA has nothing on you. Even if they used force I know you would never go back. Your body is yours, your mind is yours, and no one can take that away from you." Bucky smiles weakly at you. "You were given a second chance. Something most people aren't lucky enough to receive. And you chose to right your wrongs by working with the heroes. You're not the bad guy, (Y/n). Steve and others will see that eventually." 

You sigh tiredly and run your hand through your hair, looking at him with glassy eyes and a tight smile. "Okay, okay," You breathe out, setting your coffee mug down. "I get it, grandpa. No need to lecture me with your wisdom..."

Bucky rolls his eyes at you and throws his arms around you, pulling you closer. You close your eyes and welcome his gesture, feeling your heart ache. Slowly you wrap your arms around his waist and melt in the warmth of his embrace. "I won't rest until HYDRA's destroyed," You murmur, tightening your arms around him. "I won't stop until you're free."

You loosen your grip and pull away, looking up into his icy blue eyes with a fire he was sure had been extinguished years ago. A fire of sheer will and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes," You whisper. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter with Bucky to introduce him into the story...Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos.


	13. Returning Light

With his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his gray hoodie and his back to the store you just went in, Bucky stares out at the city before him. It's late in the afternoon and the sun is just past its point at the top of the sky. 

Today is colder than it has been in a while but by noon tomorrow it will be much warmer. 

Bucky feels as if he is in his own little bubble. The people that walk past him keep their distance as if some force is preventing them from walking any closer. Some stare longer than he would like and he finds himself tugging the dark blue cap on his head lower, hoping to shadow his face and prevent them from sensing any recognition of him. 

It's only been two days since Steve last visited you. 

Since then you've asked Clint to call before he comes over and to tell the others the same thing. It seemed like there was another reason why you told Clint this but Bucky didn't feel the need to pry or ask questions. 

A sudden shiver runs up his spine and Bucky frowns as he looks at the ground. You've been in the store for longer than he would like but he doesn't mind being out in the city with you. At first, he hadn't really wanted to because he complained it was too cold but somehow you had persuaded him into coming with you. Next, he refused to go into the clothing shop with you and you left him outside "to freeze", mocking him for thinking it was too cold to leave the apartment.

The ding of the store bell rings behind him and Bucky turns, glancing over his shoulder. You emerge from the warmth of the store and step outside with two bags in your hand and a small smile on your face. 

"It's cold out here," You say with a shudder. "You could have come in. I was only kidding."

The corner of Bucky's mouth quirks up. He shifts his gaze to the bags in your hand. "Success?" 

"Success," You repeat, letting out a quiet sigh. You carefully set the two bags down on the sidewalk, leaning them against the wall of the store beneath the large windows. You then reach into one of the bags and pull out a gray coat. 

"Not bad," He confesses as you sling it over your arm.

"It's kinda fun shopping for other people," You smirk. 

Bucky reaches over and takes the coat from you, looking at you with uncertainty. You nod encouragingly and after a moment he slides the coat on over his hoodie. He turns to the window in hopes of seeing his reflection and feels a sense of pride when his wish is granted and he finds his reflection staring back at him. 

You smile as Bucky grabs hold of both sides of the coat and stands up straight. He turns back around and looks at you. "Do you like it?" You ask slowly, "If not I can always exchange it for another one-"

"It's nice," Bucky replies simply, putting an end to your rambling. 

He glances back at his reflection and you reach back down in the bag. "I also got you a hat," You tell him, pulling out a simple black winter hat before putting it back and grabbing something else. "And a-"

"Scarf?" Bucky mumbles as he watches you unravel a black scarf. 

You hum in response and gently place your hand on his shoulder, turning him toward you so you can put the scarf on him. The task is a little difficult seeing as Bucky is taller so he moves your hands away and wraps the scarf around his neck himself. You secure it for him and take a step back, nodding approvingly while you eye him. 

"You look good, Barnes," You tell him with a sincere smile. "Better every day."

Bucky reflects your gentle smile and nods his head in the direction of your block. "Ready to head back?"

You nod and let out a content sigh, undoing the scarf around his neck. You bend over and stuff it in the bag before picking them up and turning towards the direction of your apartment. "Let's go."

"Can we pick up some cannolis on the way back?" 

"Cannolis?" You repeat, glancing both ways before you cross the street.

"You mentioned them the other day. They sound good."

"We just had lunch two hours ago! Coffee cake included."

"But I'm hungry again," Bucky replies quietly. "I'm a growing man."

"You're a  _grown_  man. But cannolis do sound good..."

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your phone, quietly ringing in the pocket of your jacket. You slide your hand into your pocket and answer the phone without looking at the number. "Hello?"

 _"Hey,"_  Steve's voice can be heard clearly on the other line.  _"Got any plans?"_

"What?" You stumble softly.

_"Are you free?"_

"Wha-" You glance at Bucky quizzically. "When?"

_"...Now."_

"I can clear my schedule," You say slowly, "Why?"

_"A meeting. We're going to lay out the plans for our next mission."_

"Alright," You sigh, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

" _See you then..."_

You pull the phone away from your ear and stare down at the screen for a moment. You then stuff it in your pocket and pick up your pace once more, looking at Bucky. "The team's arranged a meeting."

"No cannolis?" Bucky mumbles quietly. 

"Go on without me. I don't want the others to start the party before I get there," You say bitterly, passing the bags off to him. Bucky comes to a stop at the next crosswalk and the two of you stand at opposite ends. 

"I'll make sure to save you some," Bucky calls to you with a small smile. 

You can't help but mimic his smile. The traffic light suddenly turns red and the cars in the street stop, patiently waiting for you to pass by. As you step out onto the crosswalk with your back to Bucky you hear him call your name once more. Glancing over your shoulder you spot him on the sidewalk. "Thank you," He says quietly.

Your eyes twinkle and with one last smile goodbye, you turn back around and walk to the other side of the street. 

It feels as though you and Bucky have been together for months, if not years. It's as if he never left and you were never alone without him. You've been with him so much the past few days you've forgotten the feeling of loneliness and haven't thought about it since. But despite your risen spirits, your thoughts often linger on Clint. 

You can't say you're exactly excited to see him, but you have missed him and you've brushed away any bitter feelings. He may have questioned your words but you wouldn't have believed yourself either. 

Clint is a good person; and one of your only friends. You don't want to keep him in the dark.

You lick your cracked lips, although you know it won't help and continue to walk towards the tower. As you draw closer and closer to the dreaded Avengers Tower you feel your stomach into knots. Despite your reluctance, you manage your way to the front entrance and find yourself standing in front of a large metallic door with a large 'A' on it. 

A small screen lock off to the side lights up.  **"Good afternoon,"**  A voice startles you.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," You breathe out, putting a hand over your chest.

 **"I apologize for startling you, Miss (Y/n),"** The voice continues as the door slides open.  **"The Captain has requested your presence in the shared lab. The team is awaiting your company."**

"It's alright," You fumble, "I'm not familiar with the floors...Can you take me there?"

**"Of course. Please, step in."**

Shoving your hands into your coat pockets you step inside and the doors close behind you. The first floor is nothing but a small room with two elevators on either side with coat racks in the middle and half pipe desk. You walk past it to the elevator and it opens once you're close enough. Once you're inside the doors close. 

As the elevator goes up, you glance at the button panel, your eyes twinkling with curiosity at the different buttons. You assume the different symbols on them represent each member of the team. There's an arrowhead, an arc reactor- there's even one with Steve's shield. Surely Tony didn't build everyone their own floors? Although it does sound like something he would do. It's impressive, and maybe even a little humorous. 

The elevator soon comes to a stop and doors open, revealing the main room you had seen before with Steve. Your memory of the rooms and doors are foggy but you recognize this place. You step out onto the main floor and your eyes trail across the familiar couches and bar, spotting the stairs that lead to the elevator and launch pad. 

Your eyes suddenly spot the team below you, through the glass panes that allow you to see down into the lab. They don't seem to notice you and are relaxed around the table. Natasha is setting down a map. 

 **"To your right, Miss (Y/n),"** J.A.R.V.I.S. guides you.  **"Down the stairs. I hope I have been of assistance."**

"You have," You say softly, "Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.." 

**"Of course."**

You make your way to the stairs and descend down them as you take a deep breath. It's always a pain in the ass working with the team but there's a part of you that is happy to see them. When you turn the on the last flight of stairs and enter the lab, you recognize an unfamiliar but well-known face. Bruce Banner is standing beside Natasha. 

Clint, who sits in a spinning chair on the left side of the glass table notices you and turns your way. He welcomes you with a small smile and sits up straight. "Hey, welcome to the party," He says weakly. 

You can tell by the hesitance in his voice and smile that he's unsure where you stand with him. 

The others turn and watch as you make your way over to them. You stand by Clint and look at Natasha beside him. Next to her is Bruce and Sam and Steve stand on the other side. "What do you have?" You ask.

Natasha pulls away from the map, having gone silent since you entered the lab. Steve clears his throat and takes over instead. "The supplier didn't break," He tells you quietly, "We weren't able to get any information on what he was supplying but it must be big if he's willing to die to keep it a secret. He doesn't know where Rumlow is either."

"But," Sam continues on, "There are three major bases he's supplied to. We've already checked out one but it's been cleared out. Our first supplier mechanic worked there. But, we never did get a hold of him."

Your eyebrows furrow gently. "He's in Siberia, isn't he?"

Steve nods solemnly, his arms folded over his chest. "HYDRA is clearing their biggest bases and moving them to one location. That location is in Siberia, but it's as if it doesn't exist. We can't pinpoint the exact coordinates. 

"They're close to unlocking something dangerous," You murmur thoughtfully. 

He nods once more, looking up from the map to meet your eyes. "But the supplier did reveal something else. There's another mechanic, one that works for an active base. He's going to be at a party tomorrow night in San Francisco."

"And you think he'd be more willing to share the "master plan"." You say slowly.

"There's always a weak link in the chain."

You sigh quietly and cross your arms over your chest, looking down at the map as you put the puzzle pieces together. They've come across something big. Rumlow's not afraid anymore. He's confident. Now that they've put everything together they're moving it to one extremely classified base and are leaving nothing behind. Not even the people.

"Hopefully this will be over by winter's end and we'll get a break for a while," You hear Bruce sigh.  Glancing over you meet his eyes and he adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat. Clint suddenly stands up, pushing his chair aside.

"How could I forget," He says with a small smile. "(Y/n), this is Bruce."

Clint takes a step back and Bruce steps forward, offering his hand which you take politely. "It's nice to finally meet you," He says quietly, looking at you with thoughtful eyes. "Steve has told me a lot about you." 

You smile weakly at him, your expression softening. "I wish he hadn't."

"You can't really know someone without the knowing the bad," He says carefully, pulling his hand away. There's such a kindness in his eyes it almost pains you to look at him. "I look forward to spending more time with you."

You turn your eyes to the map and rest your hands on the table. You can feel Steve's gaze on you but you ignore him. If you had looked at Natasha, you might have seen that she too has her eyes on you. "I'm guessing this is the map of the San Francisco area," You say to yourself rather than the others. Natasha nods and finally decides to speak.

"The red dot is the skyscraper the party will be taking place in. The other lines are vehicle exits."

"And you've made sure there's not going to be any surprises?" 

"The only surprise happening is our appearance." She confirms, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Did we ever figure out how Rumlow knew discovered our plans for last mission?" You ask, diving straight into the question. You want answers. And not ones that have to do with you being a mole. 

Natasha glances at Steve warily, her eyes flickering to the floor momentarily before locking on you again. "No," She says after a moment's pause. "It may have been a trap from the beginning. It's the only thing that makes sense. He must've guessed you or Sam would go in seeing as the rest of us would be too easily recognized."

"We don't know what Rumlow would want with you either," Clint adds quietly. 

You have a feeling that's not true but you keep quiet and Natasha continues on. "It was wrong of me to suspect you were working for him," She says, looking at the ground. "I just had to look at every possibility-"

"It wasn't wrong of you to suspect me," You say, sliding your hands into your jacket pockets. 

"But it was wrong of me to convict you." She states, finally looking up at you. 

"Yeah," You say softly as you turn away from her. "It was."

Sam glances between the two of you awkwardly and tugs the map towards him, beginning to fold it up. Steve sighs quietly and rubs his temple as if he too is growing tired of the tension so frequently caused amongst the team. However, a smile tugs at his lips knowing you no longer feel as much spite towards them. 

Clint throws his arms over his head and stretches, sighing as he does so. Bruce helps Sam clean up the files on the table while Natasha sets the markers off to the side. "That was a quick meeting," Clint comments. 

"We can go over the mission plan tomorrow," Steve says, running a quick hand through his hair.

"Anyone wanna play Monopoly?" You hear Sam as he makes his way up the stairs. 

"Hell yeah," Clint sounds from behind, pushing past you as he follows him. 

The others begin up the stairs as well, leaving you the last to follow. "I want to play too. Let's hurry before Stark gets back from that charity gala. I want to be the car." You hear Natasha say nonchalantly. 

"I guess I'll play but I'm not very good-" Bruce says almost regretfully. 

"I want the hat," Steve states, contributing to the conversation. "Clint can be the iron this time."

"What? I don't want to be the clothes iron!"

"Than be the dog."

"Actually," Bruce fumbles over the word, "I was hoping to be the dog?"

You slow to a stop as the team continues to argue. They walk past the glass window panes and climb up the stairs to the main living area where Clint and Natasha take their seats on the couch and Bruce goes to grab the game. You turn away from their smiling faces and look at the elevator. The atmosphere has lightened but you still feel...

"(Y/n)," Steve calls your name gently, causing you to look back at him. "Are you coming?"

You stare at him in awe for a moment, your lips parting for the words that don't come out. His eyes search yours and after a moment he nods in the direction of the others, smiling weakly. You glance back at the elevator and wonder how Bucky is doing at home. Did he get his cannolis? Did he save you some? Would he be alright alone?

"C'mon, (Y/n)," Sam calls to you, "Once in a lifetime opportunity. Playing Monopoly with Avengers."

"And Sam," Natasha murmurs quietly, smirking when Sam turns and shoots her a look. 

You look back at Steve and feel a fuzziness of warmth spread through you. Seeing the team like this- playful and carefree- it makes you envious of their light. Perhaps one game couldn't hurt. You smile despite your uneasiness and slowly walk towards the stairs where Steve waits at the top for you. "Alright, fine. But I get to be the banker."

Maybe getting close to others isn't so bad after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tower is the same design as it is in Age of Ultron!
> 
> I have read all of your guys' comments and I always get so excited to hear from you all. You guys are a bunch of cuties! Thank you all for reading.


	14. Colors

"How long will you be gone?"

Bucky's voice is quiet but you can hear a hint of worry in his words. From where you kneel on one knee, you lift your head and look up at Bucky momentarily. You then look back down and continue to tie the laces on your shoes. 

"I don't know," You reply just as quietly. "Just for today."

Bucky's concern doesn't waver. "When will you be home?"

"Late," You say as you stand to your feet, snagging your small duffle bag off the floor. "Don't wait for me."

A silence follows your gentle command and you turn around, looking at Bucky with knowing eyes. "I'm serious," You continue, sliding the duffle bag's strap over your shoulder. "Don't wait for me. Get some rest."

A smile graces his lips and he tilts his head to the side, his eyes not leaving yours. "You know I will."

"Will what?" You sigh, reflecting his smile. "You'll wait for me or you'll get some rest?"

Bucky shrugs in response and you shake your head meekly, turning back around to face the door. "Hopefully I'll be back by tonight," You say as you open the front door. "There's cash in the nightstand by my bed and the coffee jar is in the third cabinet from the left." You step out onto the porch and turn to look back at him one last time. 

"Be careful, alright?" Bucky calls to you softly. 

"I'll try," You say, smiling weakly. 

Turning back around you close the door behind you and let out a deep breath. Every time you leave Bucky alone you're afraid something is going to happen to him. He's more worried about you than himself, which you wish was different but once Bucky makes up his mind about something you can't really change it. A good and bad flaw. 

You hail a cab with the wave of your arm and thank the taxi man when one stops for you. Throwing open the door you tell him where you need to go and stay silent when he asks you why you're going to the Avengers Tower. 

The ride is silent when you request the radio to be turned off. You take this time to think about the big picture. Your mission is to destroy HYDRA once and for all. Slowly over the course of the past month, you've been making progress. It may take months, even years before HYDRA finally comes to an end. But at least you're making a difference. 

Resting your head against the cool window of the cab, you stare out at the city passing by. The cars and people are a blur, but if you concentrate enough on things that catch your attention you can see them clearly. The trees on sidewalks are beginning to lose their leaves and the sky seems to be getting duller each day with the cool air. It's been a while since the last time it rained and there have been a couple hot days since the last time you went out with Bucky. 

The cab eventually comes to a stop on the side of the road and the Avengers Tower stands tall only a few feet away from you. You quietly thank the driver and hand him the right amount of money before exiting the car. 

As you step onto the sidewalk and walk closer to the large metallic door, you hear J.A.R.V.I.S.' familiar voice.

 **"Recognized-"** The AI says loudly.  **"It is good to see you again, Miss (Y/n)."**

"Just (Y/n) is fine," You tell him as the door slides open. "It's good to see- uh, hear you too."

**"The others are waiting for you on the roof. The quinjet will be ready to take off in eight minutes."**

You nod in response to his words and step inside, the door closing behind you. The room is the same, only this time, there is a man at the desk. "You must be (Y/n)," He says thoughtfully, standing up straight. 

"Yes," You respond slowly, unsure of who he is or how he knows you.

"I'm Happy," He introduces himself with a small smile. He motions to the dress in the plastic cover sitting on the desk. "Mr. Stark bought you another dress for this mission. He wants you to keep it too."

You step closer and shake your head, smiling politely at him. "I couldn't."

"He insists," Happy states encouragingly, "Just uh, ya know. Try not to ruin it like the last one."

You gently rest your hands on the plastic cover and stare down at it carefully before looking back up at Happy in uncertainty. You slowly take the dress off the counter and throw it over your arm gently. "Thank you..."

"I almost forgot," Happy says suddenly. He turns back around and grabs a shoe box lying on the floor. He then looks back at you and sets the box on the counter. "He bought matching shoes too. Hope you don't mind a little heel." With that said you take the box as well and look at Happy with inexpressible gratitude. 

"Tell Stark I'd like a lifetime supply of coffee next."

You turn your back on Happy with your new dress and shoes and head for the elevator. Once you're inside you ask J.A.R.V.I.S. which floor it is and promptly press the right button to get where you need to go. The elevator takes you up and all the while you can't help smiling to yourself. You're beginning to feel like one of the good guys. 

When you reach the main floor with the living area you played Monopoly with the team, you climb the small flight of stairs that lead to the next elevator and finally reach your destination. The launch pad. 

The cold air outside embraces you when the elevator doors open, revealing the small roof above you and the launch pad before you which holds the quinjet. Sam is the first to notice your arrival and greets you with a small wave as you walk towards him. Steve and Clint are inside the quinjet, packing up the last of the supplies.

"Just in time," Natasha says from where she stands beside the quinjet's open hatch. 

"Are we all set?" You ask in response to her comment.

She nods and Steve exits the quinjet. "We are. Everything's packed up." He says. 

"Hey, sweets," Clint greets you as he follows behind Steve. "I see you met Happy."

You glance down at the dress and shoes in your hand. "I feel spoiled."

"You love being spoiled," Clint teases, motioning for you to follow him into the quinjet. 

"I love being spoiled with food, not thousand dollar dresses..."

"A thousand dollars to Tony is more like fifty dollars," Sam tells you, contributing to the conversation. You glance back at him as you enter the quinjet and notice Natasha nodding in agreement. "Or twenty."

Steve is the last one inside. He presses the button off to the side and the hatch closes behind him. "We should be arriving in three hours. Which seems like a lot but it's better than six." This time it's Steve's turn to pilot the quinjet. Of course, the others are free to take over at any time.

You take a seat on the left, opposite of Sam and Clint, and sigh softly as you lean your back against the wall. The atmosphere seems lighter today than it ever has been before. The team is in high spirits and now that you've spent more time with them you feel more comfortable. You too are in high spirits, but your thoughts linger on Bucky. 

"So what's our mission plan?" You ask, hoping to focus less on Bucky and more on the mission. 

Clint pulls his legs up and sits criss-cross-applesauce in his seat. "Apparently our target, another mechanic, works for that base in Colorado you told us about the first time we met up. He's in San Francisco to meet up another mechanic. The last one we know of at least." Clint pauses and smiles slightly. "Which means two birds with one stone. 

"That makes things a lot easier for us," You say, your eyebrows furrowing gently. "If we catch both mechanics tonight that means we'll be two steps closer to Rumlow and whatever power they've come across." 

"Things are looking pretty good," Sam sighs contently. "And this should be an easy mission."

"Are we all going in?" You ask, glancing at Natasha who still stands in the center of the jet. 

"It's safer," She answers carefully, "There's a chance most of us will be recognized so we're going to be as discreet as possible. You, Sam, and Clint are our best options in getting close to the mechanics."

"To be fair," Clint says, waving his finger at Natasha and Steve, "I'm still just as famous as them."

"I'm famous." Sam butts in suddenly, glancing between the three of you. 

You look to Clint, who looks to Natasha, and then they both look at you before turning their gaze back to Sam. Although none of you say anything, you can hear Sam's defeat in the silence. He raises his hands defensively and then drops them, his jaw tightening as he looks away and pouts. "I should be famous..."

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you look at the ground as you suppress your amusement. As the quinjet flies you find yourself gazing out the window across from you, your hands resting in your lap. Your run your thumb over the skin of your other thumb and watch as the city below you gets smaller and smaller. You're not sure how high the quinjet can go, but when it reaches the preferred level you find the quinjet passing by clouds. 

It's just about an hour into the ride that Clint falls asleep. Well, after many counts of him saying "I'm bored." that is. Natasha had taken a seat by Sam and the two had talked for most of the hour while you remained in your void of silence. Currently, the ride is silent and the quinjet is gliding into its second hour of flight. 

Your focus, which had been on the world outside the window, is now on Natasha. She stands silently from her spot beside Sam and walks over to your side, taking a seat next to you. 

"Not that I don't think your hair is fine as it is," She says in an inexpressive voice, "But I think you should fix it up."

You shift in your seat, not wanting to look back at her. "Maybe next time." You reply quietly. 

Natasha lets out a deep breath and tilts her head, her fiery locks falling to one side. "I want to know about your past." She says in a low and careful voice. Her request is unexpected but not unwelcomed. 

You turn your head and look at her, your eyes solely on hers. The longer you gaze at her the more you see a fire in her eyes. She's either going to destroy you with the knowledge you give her or keep it as a sign of trust from you. The worst part is you don't know which. "What do you want to know?" You ask, turning your gaze to the floor.

There are warning signs flashing in your mind. Why is she asking you this now? Did the team stumble across files that held information about you? What does she know? How much does she know? 

"How long?" She asks first, her eyes never leaving you.

"Since before I can remember." You answer honestly. "I've no memory of my life before HYDRA."

You steal a glance at her and then Clint and Sam who you notice have turned their attention to you. There's so much pity in their eyes you almost regret answering. Natasha tilts her head to study you. 

"How well did you know Brock Rumlow?" She asks next, this time with a sharper tone of voice. 

"I knew as much about him as I did myself."

"And how well did you know yourself?"

You're suddenly engulfed by a wave of emotion and you lift your eyes, looking at Clint. You remember your time with him. The time you took to figure out who you were. Before him, you only knew your name. 

You finally shrug and look back at her with emotionless eyes. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" She repeats slowly, leaning back as she stares at you. "That's weird that you say that because from what I've read in the files-what I've seen in pictures- you two look pretty close."

"This is not the path you want to go down, Romanov." You say, looking at her with cold eyes.

"You can't tell me you're the victim in this situation. HYDRA's files state that you were always in your right mind," Natasha continues. She reaches under her seat and unzips a bag, pulling out a black folder. 

The folder is thick. Not near as thick as those that are still hidden, but it must be full of at least thirty papers. She passes the folder to you and you look to Clint with furrowed brows. It seems that he has nothing to do with this and despite how much he wants to say something, you know he won't defend you. He knows you'll defend yourself.

You take a deep breath. "It's not what you think," You sigh, resting your head on the wall as you stare at the ceiling. "It's more complex. It was like...we shared the same fingerprints. He marked up everything I saw until I was convinced I knew it. He painted these colors in my head..." You trail off, closing your eyes as you try to remember your past. "Colors that screamed and clawed at my thoughts. Colors that reeked destruction."

Steve, who had silently been listening in the front has abandoned his seat and slowly walks towards the back. You're opening up. You're telling them how you felt and what it was like.  _You're trusting them._

"They stained my mind. And eventually, they bled through to my heart." You say finally.

You open your eyes and find the ceiling above you. There's a calmness that has washed over you. It feels as if some of the weight on your shoulders has been removed and you take a deep breath, feeling as if it's the first time you've ever been able to breathe. "I know it doesn't make sense," You say quietly. 

Clint shakes his head, moving from his seat to the one beside yours. "No. It does make sense." 

You refuse to meet his eyes and look out the window. When he reaches out to touch your arm you pull your arms closer towards you, away from his grasp. "How much longer until we reach San Francisco?" 

Clint looks up at Steve who leans against the wall of the quinjet by the pilot seat. Steve's eyes finally leave you and he meets eyes with Clint. "An hour and a half," He replies, looking back at you. You stay silent but acknowledge his response. You can feel everyone's eyes on you but you ignore their thoughtful gazes. 

The atmosphere has barely changed. You can tell the others' are still thinking about what you said because of their silence. Steve has put the quinjet on autopilot and Natasha sighs, taking the seat in the front. The more time passes by the more you begin to regret telling them what you did. They don't deserve to know that side of you. But it does feel nice to finally share a part of your past that has been weighing you down.

Time passes by slowly but at the same time, it's gone by so fast. 

You faintly remember the beginning of the flight. Not even thirty minutes into the trip Sam and Clint started arguing over whose turn it was to make dinner. They'd bicker and Natasha would poke fun at them every now and then. Steve had turned on the hot air when Sam asked for AC and Natasha had to show him the right button. 

The last hour soon passes and you move to the front of the quinjet with Natasha to change. The boys stay in the back, doing the same. Your dress is extremely different from the last. 

Your new dress is snow white and reaches your mid thigh. It's form fitting and the long sleeves are lace with beautiful designs of flowers and swirls. It exposes your bare back and the fabric ends just below your love handles. There's no zipper this time, but Natasha's dress has one and you end up zipping hers despite her protest. 

You look Natasha up and down as you slip on your white heels. "Not bad, Romanov."

"You don't look too bad yourself," She replies, standing straight with one hand on her hip. She begins to pin her fiery locks to one side and you continue to admire her dress. Natasha's definitely not your favorite person, but you have to admit, you'd kill to be like her. Hell, even the boys would kill to be like her. Clint especially. 

Her dress is dark blue. It reaches her feet and clings to her hips but slowly loosens further down. There's a slit at the hip and two more on each side of her abdomen, revealing skin. She still looks intimidating. 

As Natasha slips on her black heels you find yourself looking over your shoulder, your eyes wandering to a certain someone behind you. Your eyes trail over Steve's bare back, his love handles, and shoulder blades. He then slips on a white button up, slowly turning to face your direction as he buttons it up.  _Those poor seems._

Right as you look away, Steve looks at you. His gaze goes unnoticed.

"Looks like we've reached our destination, boys," Natasha calls to the back as she glances at the GPS screen on the dash of the quinjet. "Four minutes until we land. Stealth mode is on." She says after the press of a button.

You step forward and place your hands on the dash, careful not to press any buttons. You gaze out at the city below you and watch as the sun sets over the city of lights. Your eyes catch sight of the Golden Gate Bridge but it disappears behind you moments later. The sight of the city combined with the purple and orange sunrise that's reflecting down on the water takes your breath away. If only you could see the reflection beside it. 

Unnoticed by you, Steve's reflection stands by yours, his eyes on you as you gaze out at the city. He stands in the back beside the others, fixing the cuffs of his suit's sleeve. "Looks like we made," Sam says quietly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this late update! I usually update every Saturday/Sunday but I missed last week. I apologize for the short chapter, I've been slammed.


	15. Warmth

The 23rd floor is bustling with life. Men and women of every size, shape, and race have taken over the entire party room. The music is low and upbeat but sweet at the same time. Guests dance in the middle of the open floor where others dine at the round tables set out all around them. The host of this party, Emmett Reid, bought out this floor for the night in celebration of retiring. Being a well known and quite brilliant mechanic, hundreds of people were thrilled to come. 

In the very front, two elevators open and more guests exit and step out to join the party, some of them already dancing to the music on their way out. You are among this group of people, a stranger to everyone. 

Beside you, Clint turns the other direction, walking towards the food tables on the left. He tugs his grey flat cap to shade his face better in hopes of staying under the radar and then fixes his dark grey suit jacket. You turn the other direction but don't wander too far from the front entrance. Behind you, Steve passes by, weaving his way through the crowd. 

 _"We're looking for Reid,"_ You hear Clint's voice in your earpiece. _"He's the host of this party. Apparently, he just decided to retire randomly sometime last month in September around the same time our first mechanic did."_

"What does he look like?" You ask under your breath. 

 _"It's going to be hard to miss him. The people_ _love him. He'll be drawing a lot of attention."_

You say nothing in response and begin to scan the floor for anyone that might fit the picture in your mind. Perhaps he's only throwing a retirement party to make things less suspicious. He hasn't told anyone why he's retiring or where he's moving to and without the party, someone might think there's something more to his story.

Your eyes trail over to the right side of the room. Natasha stands behind the counter of a small bar, having told the bartender she was the fill-in and that she could take the first shift. Of course, the bartender couldn't say no to such a beautiful (and intimidating) woman. Sam remains in the quinjet, prepared if anything goes wrong. 

Next, your attention falls on Steve. He stands by the round tables in the back, away from the crowds and chatter. Next to him is a large staircase that leads up to two more elevators. Those, however, are off limit to guests. 

He's dressed in a white button-up with a black vest and suit jacket with a blue tie. Even from your place at the front, you can see his tie is not only crooked but it's backward as well. The underside of the tie is facing forward. A smile tugs at your lips and you turn away from him before he catches you looking at him. 

You decide to join the company of a couple of men who have been watching you since your arrival. When they meet your gaze you smile sweetly and make your way over towards them. But even so, you can't help but cast one last look back at Steve. 

Steve catches your glance at him and watches with uncertainty as you begin to start a conversation with two men. He stands stiffly by the wall, resting his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. He's been trying to stay focused on the mission- trying to look for the target- but he can't seem to look away from you long enough to even try. 

He's unaware of his staring before a man, seemingly a little drunk, rests a hand on his shoulder. With his other hand, which holds a drink, he points in your direction. "That your girl?" He asks. "I've seen you staring!"

Steve turns to him, pulling away from his touch. "Excuse me?"

"That angel in the white dress. She yours?"

Steve looks back at you, his gaze different this time. "No," No he says after a moment. "No, she's...she's not mine."

"Hope you don't mind then," The man says, holding up his drink in cheers to Steve. 

Without another word, the man leaves Steve's side and makes his way through the crowd towards you. The two men you were talking to have taken their leave, only encouraging him further. Steve clenches his fists subconsciously and moves to stop the man from bothering you, but as soon as the drunk approaches you, you walk right past him. 

Steve's eyes lock with yours and his face softens as you walk straight towards him, his fists loosening. You take a spot beside him and he resists the urge to turn and face you. His focus must remain on the mission. 

"Reid's by the stairs but who else am I looking for? Who's our second mechanic?" You ask quietly.

"Lauren Rester," Steve tells you. "She's not famous like Reid but you'll know when you see her."

"And why's that?" 

"She's covered in tattoos. Everywhere except her face."

"Hair?"

"Red."

You nod slowly and turn your attention to the elevators at the front. If none of the others have seen her in the crowds she must not be here yet. While your attention is elsewhere Steve takes the moment to admire your appearance. You're beautiful. He's not foolish; anyone can see that. But Steve can't bring himself to tell you. He can argue with you and scold you and not trust you because of who you used to be, but he can't find the courage inside of him to pay you one single compliment.

Steve clears his throat suddenly. "You...You look good."

You turn your head and look back at Steve, your eyes sparkling with confusion. "What?"

"You look good." He repeats, this time offering a small smile.

Taken aback by his comment you avert your gaze and look at the ground. The last thing you would ever expect from Steve is a compliment. Especially when the two of you don't exactly get along. 

"Thank you..." You murmur. 

Steve's smile only widens when he notices your bashfulness. After a moment you look back at him. "You too, Rogers." You say, a corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. "But your tie is-"

"Crooked," Steve finishes for you, looking sheepishly down at it. "I know. I was in a hurry and I just..."

You notice him beginning to fidget with it and move closer. "Here. Let me."

You move Steve's hands out of the way and tug at the knot, undoing it slowly. The faint memory of Steve zipping up the back of your dress plays through your mind and you look up, meeting his unreadable gaze. Almost immediately you avert your eyes and focus on the tie again, unlooping it from his collar and then looping it through correctly. 

When you've finished tying it, you tuck it back under the vest and fix his collar, your hands working slow and gracefully. When your hand brushes against Steve's neck, a shiver runs up his spine and he swallows thickly. 

"There," You whisper, fixing his suit jacket. "You're perfect."

Steve raises his hand and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," You reply, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn away from him.

Steve's eyes are still on you when you spot a single woman exit the elevator on the other side of the room. Immediately, your attention is on her. She has pale skin and red hair that reaches her lower back. The dress she's wearing is grey and her features match the picture in your head perfectly. "That's her," You say suddenly. "That's our target."

Steve's stature tenses, ready to take action. "Where?"

"By the elevator. Just walking in." You avert your gaze elsewhere so she won't notice you watching her. 

Steve looks to the front of the room and spots the woman you're talking about but shakes his head. "No. That's not her." He states quietly, looking around to find Clint and Natasha. "No tattoos."

Your eyebrows furrow together and you cast another glance her way. Sure enough, she has no tattoos. But the longer you stare at her the more curious you get. The woman doesn't go far. She continues to keep her distance from other people, but her attention is on Reid, who still stands by the stairs on your left. 

"Dance with me," You blurt out quietly, turning towards Steve. 

Steve meets your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What?"

"Dance with me."

Steve stares at you, uncertain of what to say or do. He then lets out a deep breath and shakes his head slowly. "I can't, (Y/n)." There's such an intensity in your eyes, he wishes he could. But it's been so long since he's danced.

"Just trust me," You murmur, taking his hand in yours as you begin to lead him into the crowd. 

Steve makes no move to pull away or take his hand back despite his uncertainty. Instead, he welcomes the warmth of your hand in his and squeezes it gently. For the first time, he's letting  _you_  lead  _him_  into the dark. 

You pull Steve to the middle of the floor and move one hand to his shoulder, the other still clasped with his. Steve fumbles with his free hand before placing it stiffly at your side and looking at you sheepishly. You smile slightly and pull your hand away from his shoulder to slide his hand a little lower down.

"Sorry," He says quietly as he averts his gaze. "It's...been a while."

"It's okay. Just...trust me." You whisper.

The two of you begin to sway back and forth to the low playing music, Steve still unsure of what he's doing or why you insisted he dance with you so suddenly. Soon enough Steve finds himself forgetting the mission.

Your attention seems to be elsewhere. Every now and again you glance past Steve's shoulder, but his attention is solely on you. Steve may be a hero but deep down he's also an artist. And to him, you are a painting he can't decide how he feels about. But the longer he looks the more details he sees until finally, it's like he can't stop looking. 

You suddenly pull away from him, your hand still in his. "Spin me."

This time, Steve doesn't seem to hesitate. He removes his hand from your waist, which had fit so perfectly there, and raises his other hand which holds yours. Then with a small smile, he spins you around. 

Once you've spun, you hold out your arm for dramatic effect and accidentally bump into someone's hand and the drink they're holding. White wine spills over and onto someone else. And that's when Steve notices the woman who the drink was spilled on. It's the redhead in the grey dress and on her arm where the wine met with her skin, tattoos are showing beneath smeared makeup. Now Steve realizes the reason why you wanted to dance with him.

The redhead, now revealed as Lauren Rester, grasps her arm with her other hand and hides the tattoos. She smiles sweetly at the woman who's drink spilled on her but when she turns around she frowns bitterly. 

"We found the target," You say under your breath, holding two fingers to your earpiece. 

 _"Where is she?"_ Natasha asks. 

"Stairs," You reply curtly. 

Before you can turn and hide your face, both targets catch sight of you and Reid immediately starts towards the elevators. Rester begins to climb the stairs, following after him. You tear your hand away from Steve's and begin to make your way towards the stairs. He barely has time to miss the warmth of your skin against his before Steve follows behind you. He presses two fingers to his earpiece as well and calls to the others.

"Clint, Natasha, let's move."

Immediately Clint and Natasha follow his orders and push through the crowd towards you. A couple of the bodyguards standing around, as well as a few no named men, notice the commotion and begin to follow as well. You can only guess they're supposed to be protection for Reid and/or HYDRA agents working for them. 

Both targets enter separate elevators and before the doors close, Steve hops into one elevator with Lauren but they both close before the rest of you can get in. There's only one elevator left, a third in the middle, and Clint and Natasha turn their backs on it to fight off the men and woman coming closer, armed with guns and fists. Darting forward you hop into the last elevator and watch the doors close, quickly pressing down on your earpiece. 

"Rogers! What floor?" You ask desperately. 

There's a moment of silence.  _"26!"_ You hear Steve's muffled voice. 

You slam your hand down on the 26th button and the elevator begins to move upward. Yes, it's only three floors up and it will only be a matter of minutes before you reach the 26th floor, but it feels like forever before the elevator finally stops. Before you doors are completely open you squeeze through the metal doors and step out onto the floor. 

You can see Reid making his way down the hallway but your mind is screaming 'Steve!'. You rush towards the elevator on your right to find it's open but the moment you show your face Steve's body is sent flying towards you and the two of you take a tumble onto the floor. Lauren doesn't waste any time and makes a run for it. As quickly as you can, you and Steve untangle yourselves from one another and hastily rush down the hallway in pursuit. 

When both targets take a turn for a glass door and office room, you and Steve do the same. Reid snags a vase of flowers off the office desk in the front and tosses it backward at you and Steve but the two of you duck out of the way and it smashes into the glass door. "Sam where is our nearest exit?" You hear Steve yell.

 _"I can tell you if you quit moving!"_   You hear Sam reply. 

The four of you run into another room before finally bursting through two glass doors, reaching a small hallway that leads to nowhere. At the end of the hallway there are large glass windows and on the left side wall, there are two elevators, but other than that it's empty. When both of your guests realize this, they stop almost immediately. 

Seemingly unarmed, the two stand their ground and glare at you with cold eyes. For once, it looks like things will go according to plan. It's been a long night and your strongest memory, despite having only done it to get closer to Lauren without drawing attention to yourself, is dancing with Steve into the night. You don't even have to reach for the gun in the holster on your thigh, hidden under your dress. This will be over quick. 

You take another step forward, and Reid's jaw tightens. 

 _"Your nearest exit is the room behind you,"_   You hear Sam say suddenly.  _"Backtrack to the fire exit. When you pass through there you'll have to be quick with our targets because you'll trip the fire alarms and guests will have you trapped in there. So either way, elevator or stairs, you're bound to run into trouble."_

You look to Steve, about to suggest you should take the elevator when a bullet pierces the glass windows and strikes Reid through the back of his head. Glass shards fall to the floor and Reid does the same, his body falling limp. Lauren's face pales and she nearly stumbles back, her wide eyes on his now lifeless body. But before she can react, another bullet strikes and hits her in the same place Reid was hit. She too falls to the floor.

Steve's first instinct is to duck and move out of the way but he notices a red dot on his chest. Just as he's about to dive out of the way, you move forward and push Steve, putting yourself in front of him. 

Another bullet pierces the glass. This one hits your chest. 

Steve catches you as you stumble. He crumbles to his knees, holding you in his arms as he calls your name. His voice is quiet to you. All you can think about is how warm he is compared to how cold you've become.

He presses down on his com and you can tell he's calling for help from Clint and Natasha, maybe even Sam. The next thing you know is Steve is shrugging his suit jacket off and tearing the fabric of his white button up to place it over your bullet wound. Everything blurs a little and you shift in Steve's arms. 

"Steve..." You breathe out. 

Hearing your name slip past his lips Steve looks down at you, his blond hair falling in front of his face. Beads of sweat run down his face and concern laces his every feature. His lips part but no words fall from them. All he can do is stare back at you with worry filled eyes like he's afraid you'll close yours if he looks away.

And like you have so many times before, you get lost in his eyes, drowning in the depths of blue. With his heartbeat in your ear and your hands gripping his clothes, you close your eyes and let his warmth engulf you.

**Lights out.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very important note: read below
> 
>  
> 
> I love you all :)


	16. Conflict of the Heart and Mind

It's been ten hours since you took a bullet for Steve. Ten long hours. 

After you fell unconscious Steve carried you to the quinjet where he met up with Clint and Natasha. Upon first seeing you in your blood-stained white dress, hanging limply in Steve's arms, Clint demanded what had happened and took you from his grasp. He was the one that held you through the three long hour trip home on the quinjet. 

Natasha fixed you up the best she could in the quinjet but once you arrived at the tower Clint carried you to the infirmary in the shared lab. When they realized how severe it was Sam called a medical friend he knew from being in the Air Force.

Had the injury been any worse, you would have been in the hospital. Or worse: dead.

Everyone but Clint has been in bed for a while. It's six o'clock in the morning and he still sleeps in the chair beside the infirmary bed you lay in. After the night he's had it doesn't seem likely he'll be up anytime soon. 

Steve and Natasha are the only ones awake in the tower. As Steve makes his way down the stairs towards the infirmary he opens the small brown bag in his hands and looks at the contents before closing it again. He turns the corner of the last flight of stairs and then makes his way towards the lab, passing through the open doors. Through the glass walls of the infirmary, he can see you lying in bed, Clint beside you. His heart aches for the both of you.

Even now he still feels guilty for what happened. 

Slipping behind Clint Steve sets the bag in his hands down on the metal desk against the wall beside your bed. He places a hand on Clint's shoulder and gently squeezes. Clint wakes at the contact and slowly shifts in his seat. 

"You told me you would get some rest last night," Steve says, his voice low and hushed, to not wake you. 

"I did," Clint murmurs, slouching in the chair as he stretches. "I rested last night in this very chair."

Steve doesn't argue with him in fear their voices will get too loud. Instead, he walks around the chair and looks at Clint with scolding but soft eyes. "Head upstairs. Natasha's already started making breakfast."

Clint only hums in response and slowly stands up from the chair. "What's in the bag?"

"Chocolate muffins," Steve says softly, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. 

Clint stares at him in silence for a moment before looking over at your sleeping form. One corner of his mouth tugs up into a half-smile and he turns away, beginning to make his way out of the room. Steve takes Clint's seat in the chair and lets out a quiet sigh. He glances at the bag on the desk and then back at your sleeping form. 

You're wearing a pair of Natasha's black leggings and one of Tony's grey Stark Industry sweatshirts. Tony wasn't upset about the dress. He expected it to get ruined. He just didn't think it would be ruined by your own blood. Natasha had no trouble convincing him that he should buy another one for you. She stated you looked good in it and Sam mentioned how much you liked it. Clint tied the knot, saying you've never had any nice things for yourself. 

It seems the team is starting to really warm up to you. Steve more so than the others.

Steve sits in silence, watching the subtle rise and fall of your chest. Natasha had done her best to clean you up, but because you hadn't taken a shower your hair is a bit of a mess. Steve could care less. All he can think about is how peaceful you look. You look youthful again, with glowing skin and soft, plush lips. Even he can tell this is the best sleep you've gotten in a while and despite the fact that you've actually been unconscious, he's thankful. 

When you finally begin to stir in your place, Steve scoots forward in his chair and rests his hand on the side of the bed. Your eyes flutter open, your first instinct to sit up. When you move, however, pain blossoms in your chest and you find yourself laying down again. Steve stands up, now right at your bedside. 

"Careful," He tells you in a gentle voice.

You move your hand and gently grip onto Steve's black long sleeve. "Steve..." 

"Hey, it's okay," He murmurs, his voice nearly lulling you back to sleep. "We're home. Everything's okay." 

He can tell by your grip on his sleeve and the sense of urgency in your eyes that you still believe you and him are in danger. Your thoughts seem to process and your grip on his sleeve loosens. You move again, this time forcing yourself to sit up a little. The pain begins to throb again and you let out a ragged breath, moving your hand to your chest. 

Memories of last night soon begin to flood your mind and the aching you feel in your chest is explained. You remember the bullet tearing through you. You remember Steve catching you as you stumbled and his face hovering over yours as he tried to stop the bleeding. And his eyes. How could you forget his eyes? As Steve sits on the side of your bed, looking down at you with compassionate eyes, you feel your fear and panic dissolve. 

"How long have I been out?" You ask quietly, letting go of his sleeve.

Steve looks up at the clock on the right side of the room. "About ten hours."

"Ten hours..." You repeat to yourself. That's the longest you've gotten any sleep in months. You feel better now waking up in the infirmary than you have in your own bed. "They're dead, aren't they?" You whisper. 

Already Steve can sense your disappointment. When you look at him, waiting for a response, all he can do is nod. Those two mechanics were the last good lead you and the team had at finding Rumlow. Now it may take weeks or even months to find another lead. It will take longer to truly find the base location and Rumlow along with it. 

Steve acknowledges your silence and subconsciously rests his hand on yours. "Hey," He says gently, causing you to look back at him. "We're going to find him." His voice is reassuring; softer than usual. 

"I know," You murmur, averting your gaze to the white sheets that cover you. 

You can feel the warmth of Steve's hand on yours, but it's as if you don't notice it. It feels normal. Steve suddenly tenses and you feel his grip on your hand tighten. This time when you look back at him there's guilt glittering in his blue eyes and a frown settled on his lips. Almost immediately you know what he's going to say. 

"Rogers-" 

"You shouldn't have taken that bullet for me." 

You turn your head and look up at the ceiling. "It was nothing."

"Nothing?" He repeats the word softly, nearly above a whisper. "You saved my life."

You smile despite yourself. "You save lives all the time. Someone has to save you."

At this, Steve smiles softly, but his eyes still show concern.

You close your eyes as you take in his words, running them over and over in your mind. You saved somebody. You saved  _Steve_. And besides that, you're relieved he's okay. Opening your eyes again, you look at Steve. Besides the faint bags under his eyes and the weariness shining in his blue orbs, the only injury he seems to have is a small bruise on his right cheek. You can only guess he earned it from fighting back in the elevator the night before. 

Slowly you raise your hand up to Steve's face. You're exhausted. Everything still feels blurry and unbelievable. But Steve is clear. And his eyes are so bright. His brow creases in confusion, but he makes no move to stop you from touching his cheek. He stiffens beneath your fingertips as they gently brush against his bruise. 

He swallows thickly, his lips parted as he takes careful breaths. You can tell multiple thoughts are running through his head and for an instance, you swear his eyes leave yours and trail down to your lips. 

Before your hand can cup his cheek, Steve reaches for it and slowly pulls it away from his face. There's such an intensity in his eyes that you can't help but look back at him with such emotion.  "Last night at the party you told me to trust you," He says quietly, hand still holding yours. "And I took your hand because I did.  _I trust you_."

The words are hushed and soft and perfect. You never realized how badly you wanted to hear them until now. 

And that's when your warmth is killed. The fire that had been ignited inside you by Steve's adoring gaze flickers out. Now wide awake, you can hear a voice in the back of your mind.  _What are you thinking?_

A knock on the metal doorframe causes you and Steve to turn and look at the door. It's Natasha. She holds a glass of water in one hand and looks between the two almost emotionlessly, but there's a twinkle of questioning in her gaze. "Am I interrupting something?" She asks, her usually expressionless voice now sounding of curiosity. 

You slip your hand out of Steve's grasp, ignoring the lingering warmth, and turn your eyes to Natasha. 

"Good to see you're awake," She says as she officially enters the room, holding out the glass of water. 

"I don't feel very awake," You admit. 

Taking the glass from her hands you take a long sip of the cold water and silently thank her for the drink. Your dry throat and cracked lips rejoice at being replenished and you feel your thoughts beginning to gather properly. Steve pulls away from your bedside, his hands in gentle fists at his sides, but you pay no attention to him. 

"You're lucky you know. If we had arrived any later at the tower you would have been in the hospital."

"Well thank you for saving me..." You say quietly. 

"It was the least we could do. You did save Steve's after all," She says jokingly. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"Our targets are dead. So is our lead," You say emotionlessly. 

"We've got Tony looking for their bases. As far as we know they're still functioning but that won't be for long. Hopefully we'll have their locations by noon and have finished checking them out by the following day."

"We're going on another mission so soon?" You ask. 

"It's only a matter of time before both bases have cleared out," Steve explains. "I'm sure they've caught word that their bosses are dead. Which is another thing we wanted to talk about."

"The sniper," You murmur, subconsciously grasping the fabric of you sweatshirt tightly. 

Steve's eyes flicker from you to your chest. "Yeah."

"Do we have any suspects?" 

"No, but we might know who hired them," Natasha says as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

Your heart drops. "You think Rumlow hired the sniper?"

"If our supplier was willing to die to keep Rumlow's location safe what do you think Rumlow would do?"

"That makes sense," You say slowly, running a hand through your messy hair as you consider this. "Did he fire any more shots after hitting me?" You ask, not noticing Steve wince at your words. 

"No," Steve says quietly, his gaze fixed on the ground. "We don't think he ever had the intention of shooting you."

 You chew on the inside of your cheek as you let his words sink in. Ever since you encountered Rumlow on your first mission it's been clear he has his mind set on reaching you. You don't know why. His actions could be lead by a number of reasons. The only thing you know for sure is that you're life is in danger. 

It's only a matter of time before he gets a hold of your strings and pulls you back into the depths of HYDRA. 

With your thoughts lingering on the sniper and having no memory of last night, Bucky invades your thoughts. Your heart sinks and the image of him waiting for you by the front door all night stirs a feeling of dread and guilt inside you. Somehow you know he waited for you. He always does. He never sleeps when you're away, and the mere thought of him sitting by the door all night, waiting for you to come home, nearly breaks your heart. 

The two of you have relied so heavily upon each other now that you have been reunited. You cling onto one another because afraid to let go- afraid to be alone again. You just hope Bucky is doing okay at home.

"Thank you again," You say politely as you shift on the bed, moving to stand up. You have to get home to Bucky. He's all you can think about right now. "For saving me, for letting me stay here- for everything. I'm just...I'm just glad everyone else is okay." Your eyes subconsciously shift to Steve and you find his eyes are already on you. 

"Hey, Steve- Natasha," A voice calls as someone descends down the stairs. "Breakfast is ready."

You match the voice with Bruce Banner and watch as he cautiously steps in the doorway of the infirmary. He meets your gaze and immediately his eyes soften. "You're awake," He breathes out. "How are you feeling?"

You fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself awkwardly, not used to having someone ask about you or your health. The sincerity in his eyes is what baffles you the most. Bruce doesn't know you very well but his concern for you can not be measured. "Good..." You admit quietly. "I'm feeling a lot better than I have in a long time."

A smile tugs at his tight lips. "You say that like you didn't get shot."

You avert your gaze to the floor and Bruce finally turns his attention to Steve and Natasha. "Tony and Clint are fighting over the coffee pot again so I wouldn't get your hopes up for a mug but the food is ready."

"I made two pots," Natasha says, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. 

"One has more coffee than the other," Bruce replies, biting back a smile. 

Steve can't help but reflect his smile and shakes his head meekly at the thought of Tony and Clint tugging a coffee pot back and forth. Natasha turns her back on you and Steve and begins to make her way out. 

"I guess I'm going to make more coffee then," She sighs. "How do you like your coffee, Bruce?"

"Uh, I'm more of a...tea person actually." Bruce stutters. 

Steve turns and looks back at you. "Come on. We'd better get some food in you." 

You meet his gaze but can't bring yourself to hold it for very long and look away as you force your body to stand up. "I should be getting home," To Bucky. "If you need anything just call."

Your chest aches with every movement but you barely blink at the pain. Steve's concern grows deeper and he moves closer, catching your attention. "You haven't even eaten," He points out carefully. "Maybe you should stay a little longer...You need to eat something. And just in case something goes wrong-"

"I'll be fine, Rogers," You cut him off with a faint smile. "You've done enough for me."

"At least stay for breakfast..." 

"Rogers..."

"Please," The word falls from his lips before he can catch it. His eyes are practically pleading with you to stay. There's a hope in his unwavering gaze and a softness about his voice that draws you in.

"...Okay," You say after a moment. Lately it seems you've been fighting him less and less. 

Steve smiles triumphantly and motions to the desk behind you. "That's for you."

You turn your body and glance back, spotting the brown paper bag. "What is it?" You ask, barely raising your voice. You snag the bag off the desk and look back at him as you wait for an answer.

"Take a look," He tells you. 

Opening the bag you do as he says and peek down at the contents. Not two, but three fairly good sized muffins sit in the bag, filling it nearly to the top. You shouldn't feel the way you do as you stare down at them. A weak smile forms on your lips and you find your chest tightening in a pleasant way as warmth washes over you. The thought of Steve buying something for you makes you smile. The thought of him thinking about you at all makes you want to cry. 

No one besides Clint has ever given you anything.

You swallow back your emotions and say a quiet thank you as you close the bag. He only smiles in return. As you pass by him you don't dare to meet his gaze. He follows you up the stairs, a new light in his steps, but your feet feel heavy and every step you take you feel like you're sinking deeper and deeper into the shadows that surround you. 

_What are you thinking?_

The warmth you felt only moments ago is smothered by shadows of doubt and reality. What are you thinking? Are you even thinking at all? Your thoughts, which had been so quiet, are now screaming at you. 

_You're going to get hurt._

_The moment you get too close to him- the moment you let him in- he's going to destroy you._

_It's better to feel nothing than to feel pain._

When you reach the top of the stairs you immediately glance at the elevator: at the exit.  _It's not too late_ , you tell yourself.  _Turn and walk away now before you sink any further. Leave now before you're in too deep._

Just as you're about to turn and make your way to the elevator, Clint places a hand on your shoulder and steps in front of you, his wide eyes full of relief and happiness. The voice in your head begins to fade. You glance to the left and see Steve smiling at you. You look past Clint and see the others in the kitchen, looking at you with warm and welcome eyes. Even Natasha has the shadow of a smile. Soon enough the voice is a whisper until finally, it's nothing.

All you can hear now is the faint beat of your heart. 

_What are you thinking?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I'M SO SORRY! This is by far my latest update. I've recently got a boyfriend and the autumn season is one of my busiest! The next update will be Sunday, and hopefully I will have my schedule back on track! xoxo
> 
> I hope you all had a great Halloween!


	17. What is Left Unsaid

You can still feel Steve's eyes on you as you sit down at the kitchen island. The counter is long enough to fit each one of the Avengers with one seat being open (the one you're sitting in). It clicks in your mind that you haven't seen the god of thunder yet, although you don't really care considering you don't know much about him. 

The kitchen is smaller than you thought it would be. Behind the island there's a modern steel fridge and black cabinets that hang on the wall, leaving space beneath them for other things. In the middle of the counter beneath the cabinet, there's two stoves and two ovens beneath them. The sinks are at the end of the island counter and the stools each of you sit on are white with metal bars that keep it steady. What catches your interest the most is the dining table. 

Beside the kitchen island, just about 15 feet away, is a black dining table with white chairs. 

"Why do you guys have such a big dining table?" You ask, looking to Clint as he sets a plate in front of you. 

He glances over at the other side of the room. "We have a big family."

"There's only six of you," You point out, "Maybe Sam tags along sometimes but that table can seat more than seven."

"It usually only seats 14," A new voice tells you. "But it can hold maybe 20 or so."

Your turn and look for a face to match the voice and meet eyes with a man in a black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants standing behind the island. His warm brown eyes are deep and enthralling and you can't help but stare at him. When he smirks, you immediately know who he is, but even as you look at him with recognition he moves closer to introduce himself. 

"You must be (Y/n)," Tony marvels, looking at you with keen interest. 

"I am," You say quietly. "And you must be Tony Stark."

"In the flesh."

The conversation has barely started but you can tell by the look in Tony's eyes you've said enough for him to be stuck on you. His strong and almost taunting voice clashes with your quiet and cool, expressionless one.

"I can see why Cap never shuts up about you," He says as he takes a sip from his coffee mug. 

Your eyes flicker to Steve, who stands behind the island, scooping eggs onto his plate. Although his back is turned on you, you can see his ears beginning to color red. You look back at Tony and notice a new twinkle in his eyes. 

"Coffee?" He asks nonchalantly, motion to the coffee pot on the end of the counter beside the bowl of mixed fruit. 

"Yes," You say quietly, looking back at your plate.

Clint takes the seat beside you and sets his plate down on the counter, looking at you with worry filled eyes. "What are you doing up out of bed? I was going to bring you some food down."

"I was going to head home but," You can't help but look at Steve. "I decided to stay for breakfast."

"Home? You just got  _shot_. In the  _chest_. You shouldn't even be walking around."

You smile at his concern and pick up the fork beside your plate as you dig into your food. "I'm fine, Clint."

"That's what they all say..." He grumbles, shoving a fork full of eggs and syrup into his mouth. 

Bruce, on your right, offers you syrup for your pancakes and you smile weakly at him in thanks as you take it. You can't fully describe what you feel, or if it's good or bad. The atmosphere is light and happy and the warmth surrounding you is welcome, but somehow you feel out of place. You meet eyes with Steve, who leans against the counter across from you. 

He smiles, a true sincere smile, and you find yourself looking away, unaware that you too are smiling. 

"So back to the dining table," Natasha says suddenly, causing everyone to turn their attention to her. "What are we doing for Thanksgiving? I figured we'd plan ahead since we always do things last minute."

"Yeah, and when are you going to take the Halloween decorations down?" Clint pipes up, looking at Tony. 

"J.A.R.V.I.S., set a reminder to take down the Halloween decorations after lunch," Tony calls out. 

You're startled when J.A.R.V.I.S. replies.  **"The reminder is set, Sir."**

Having noticed that you flinched, Tony grins at you. "You have met J.A.R.V.I.S. before, haven't you?"

"I have," You begin slowly, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I'm just not used to him."

He chuckles at your words and the others can't help but laugh along with him. The sound of their laughter is almost contagious but you can't bring yourself to laugh. At first, it takes you a moment to remember the last time you laughed, but the memory of Bucky setting his ramen noodles on fire finds you.

Guilt washes over you. What are you doing here? Eating breakfast like a queen amongst heroes while Bucky stays home alone, waiting for you come back, wondering if you're even alive. 

You poke at the food on your plate, suddenly not feeling hungry. 

The breakfast wears on for about an hour before everyone has really finished eating. You didn't really touch your food, which Clint noticed, but you convinced him you just weren't hungry and Bruce said it might be a while before you actually want to eat anything. Your chest still aches, but with the others, cheerfully cleaning up and smiling, you hardly notice the pain. You wish you hadn't stayed for breakfast, but you're also glad you did. 

Once breakfast is over Tony and Bruce begin to leave for the lab to work on something but stop in front of the door to talk. You offer to help Clint with the dishes and he smiles warmly at you, giving a small nod. As you fill the sink with water and Clint reaches for the dish soap, you look at him for the first time in a long time. 

It's not the same glance that you spare him when you check to make sure he's okay or the knowing look you share with him when you're thinking the same thing. It's a look of realization. One that changes everything.

At this very moment, amongst the team, sharing in their witting banter and warm smiles, you feel at home. 

The feeling is fleeting, however. The reality of the situation begins to seep in like a child's worst fear and the light in your eyes flickers out. You look away from Clint and continue to wash the dishes in silence. You should have turned away from Steve and returned to Bucky. Here you may feel at home, but you know you can't stay. 

After all, you are Bucky's home. 

Just as you're about to hand Natasha a washed glass for her to dry, Steve moves behind you, his chest just barely pressing against your back. He reaches over you and grabs a washcloth sitting on the edge of the sink. Startled, you drop the glass in your hands and it smashes against the hardwood floor harshly, shattering into multiple pieces. 

Bruce and Tony turn their attention to you and Steve steps back, startled as well. Immediately, you kneel down and begin to pick up the glass shards. "I'm sorry," You stutter, shamefully cleaning up your mess. 

"Are you alright?" Steve asks, crouching down beside you. 

"I'm fine," You reply softly. "It just slipped out of my hands..."

"But you're bleeding..." Bruce points out worriedly, stepping towards the two of you. 

You had been so concerned about picking up the glass you didn't notice the cuts you had earned from doing so. Steve picks up the rest of the glass and you both stand up. He pulls open a large cabinet where the trashcan is and you toss the glass into it. Bruce is by your side in no time, taking hold of your wrists so he can see your hands. 

"You are just prone to danger, aren't you?" Clint says as he leans against the counter. 

"I'll snag the first aid kit," Tony states rather chipperly as he leaves the room. 

You follow Bruce back to the sink and look at him with curious eyes as he holds your hands in his, examining them carefully. While Steve makes sure there's no glass in his skin, he looks at you worriedly. Natasha picks up the washcloth he set down and wipes down the counters, paying no mind to what is going on. When Tony gets back he sets the first aid kit down on the counter by the sink along with a pair of tweezers. Immediately Bruce reaches for the tweezers.

"Is it okay if I go ahead and get the glass out?" He asks softly. 

"You don't have to, Dr. Banner, I can do it myself-"

"Stay still..."

Bruce's soothing voice calms you down and instead of arguing you let him work. He gently holds your right hand and carefully begins to pull out pieces of glass stuck in the soft skin of your palm. Blood runs from the cuts down to the backside of your hand where it drips onto the counter. Your other hand remains still at your side, bleeding as well. 

Bruce looks up at you almost in awe that you're not wincing or pulling away from him. When he has finished with your right hand he holds it over the sink and rinses it with warm water before reaching for another washcloth.

"Hold this in your hand until I can wrap it properly," He tells you. 

You do as he says and hold the washcloth in your hand, squeezing it tightly in an attempt to stop the blood flow. "I'm sorry again," You say sincerely, looking up at Tony, who sits on a stool behind the counter. 

"Don't worry about it," He waves away your apology. "I've got plenty more."

"It seems I ruin everything you give me," You say, biting back a smile. 

At this, Tony smirks. "No kidding."

You squeeze the washcloth in your hand tighter and then look back at Bruce who's eyes are focused on your left hand. He picks out the last few pieces of glass and then sets the tweezers down in the sink. He takes the washcloth from your hands and sets it down on the counter before taking your hands in his and guiding them under the faucet. 

Bruce gently runs his thumbs over the palm of your skin around a few cuts to wash off any dry blood and then turns the water off so he can bandage your hands. You didn't realize how close you were to him until you looked up at him and found his face was only a few inches from yours. Concern still laces his features and your heart sings for him. He truly is a kind-hearted soul and the fact that he cares about like anyone else despite not knowing you well makes you smile. 

"Thank you," You say softly, your smile weaker than you'd like it to be. 

Bruce looks up at you with a smile of his own. "Don't mention it."

As Bruce reaches for the white bandages from the first aid kit, you reach for his free hand, which rests on the countertop. You place your hand over his and he snaps his attention back to you. This action does not go unnoticed by Natasha who stands on the other side of the counter as she wipes it down. Her lips form a thin line and an unreadable look flickers in his eyes before she looks away. Steve notices this as well and steadies his gaze on you.

Clint is the only one oblivious to what's going on around him as he hums while he sweeps up the glass in a dustpan. Tony's attention, however, is on Steve rather than you and Bruce. 

Bruce seems to understand your notion and says nothing as he looks at you, but a twinkle in his eyes tells you he understands. You really are grateful for his help and kindness towards you. When he finishes bandaging your hands you take a step back and look at them in admiration. "Thank you again, Dr. Banner."

"Please call me Bruce," He says with a faint smile. "And it's the least I could do."

You glance past Bruce and meet eyes with Clint who has just finished sweeping up the mess. "I really should be going," You speak up. "Thank you all for having me. And for not pulling the plug on me while I was out."

Tony smirks at your words. "Not that we didn't think about it once or twice."

"Stark," Steve hisses, shooting him a sharp look. 

"Kidding of course!" He says as he raises his hands defensively. "Who would want to get rid of you?"

You feel Natasha's eyes on you but refuse to meet her gaze, not wanting to start something with her. You almost want to say "I can think of a few people" and call her out for her glaring daggers, but you decide against it. 

"You don't want to stay a while longer?" Clint pouts, moving to stand in front of you. 

"I shouldn't."  _I can't._

"Well you're always welcome," Tony hums, sliding off his stool to pour himself another cup of coffee.

Clint grins his usual lopsided grin at you. "I'll walk you out."

The invitation to come back- anytime you want- is almost tempting. Instead of replying you toss him a small smile and begin to head for the door. As you pass the counter you forget to snag the bag of chocolate muffins you left on the counter. Steve notices this and quickly picks up the bag, calling you back. "Ah- (Y/n)!"

Hearing your name you pause and turn back around. Natasha passes by you, leaving the room, and you notice Steve walking towards you. He looks at you almost nervously and stops in front of you, holding the bag out. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" He asks suddenly, to your surprise. 

"Rogers..."

"I know, I know," He continues before you can say anything else. "Here."

You take the paper bag from his hands and look up at him with a twinkle in your eyes. It's the first time in a long time Steve has seen it. Your eyes are usually dull and lack emotion, but as his blue eyes bore into yours, he can see all the warmth and joy in your eyes, sparkling silently without fear or sadness.

"I trust you, Rogers," You say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Steve's eyes soften. "I know."

Clinging to the bag tightly, you take a step back and look at him one last time before you turn your back on him and leave. Clint follows you out and Steve watches your figure disappear behind the corner of the hallway. Tony taps his fingers curiously on the countertop and then moves to stand by Steve, his thoughts swirling around in his mind.

The longer he thinks about it the more it becomes clear why Steve looked upset about you and Bruce. He smirks in realization and fits the last few puzzle pieces together. How had he not seen it before?"

"You are completely and utterly hopeless."

Steve glances at him. "What?"

"I saw the way you were looking at her, Cap," Tony says with a hum, innocently looking at the door. "It was like you were the only two people in the room. It was quite the sight, really." 

Steve rolls his eyes and turns away from him, moving back towards the kitchen island. Tony only follows him, leaning over the counter with his arms folded as he rests them on the cold marble surface. Steve ignores his gaze and begins to put the rest of the dishes away in the cabinets. His gaze subconsciously slips to Bruce, who is putting away the first aid kit.

"What you're doing is wrong."

Steve closes the cabinet in front of him slowly and lets's his arms fall to his sides. He clenches his fists tightly, not daring to turn around. The atmosphere in the room is now dark and sober. Bruce has stilled as well.

"She trusts you, Cap," Tony continues, standing up straight. "She saved your life. She took a God damn  _bullet_  for you. And what do you do? You put a tracker on her-  _in_  her, actually."

"Tony-" Steve begins, his voice weak. 

"Does she even know that you have a cell waiting for her in the Raft?"

"No, I..." 

"You what, Steve?" 

Taken aback by the venom in Tony's voice Steve turns and looks back at Tony with a pained expression on his face, his jaw clenched. Startled by the sudden tension in the room Bruce sighs quietly and closes the first aid kit silently. Steve and Tony continue to stare back at each other intensely, neither one of them happy with the other. Finally, Steve breaks his gaze and looks at the floor, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his fists. 

He's in too deep.

* * *

 

As you walk down the city streets with no shoes and no jacket you hugs yourself to keep warm, your thoughts lingering on Bucky. You glance behind you and see the tower beginning growing smaller and smaller with every step you take. You feel like a homeless person on the street with your hands bandaged and no shoes on your feet. 

You don't notice the people giving you strange looks and the kids who point at your blood-soaked bandages. Bucky is all that you can think about. He's been waiting. You've kept him waiting. You could have been home by now, reassuring him that you're okay, but you stayed longer than you should have. You didn't have to stay at all. It's been twelve hours since you took a bullet for Steve. Twelve hours that Bucky has been wondering if you're even alive. 

The guilt is eating you alive. You bite your lip and look up at the sky, noticing that clouds are gathering in the sky. It's a lot colder outside than it was yesterday, but then again you were in San Francisco. 

The faintest memory of watching the sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge plays in your mind and you smile. 

It had been a moment that lasted forever but ended in seconds. You're just glad it was a moment at all. You can almost feel the warm orange rays of sunlight kissing your skin but the cold nipping around you presently makes it impossible for the warmth to stay. You wish Bucky could have seen it. He would have loved it. 

You are just beginning to pass the alley between your apartment and the one beside it when a hand snags your wrist. Having been distracted by your thoughts on Bucky you hadn't seen the three men in the alley. 

A rough hand lands on your shoulder and you're tugged into the alleyway. Immediately you tense up and feel a wave of pain shoot through your chest. The man slams you against the brick wall of your apartment beside the fire escape and you let out a cry of pain as you squeeze your eyes shut. When you open your eyes again you gather all your strength and knee him in the stomach once or twice before throwing him off of you.

"Ease up on the roughhousing," A man says in a gruff voice. 

"He'll be pissed if you bring her in bleeding from that fucking hole in her chest." The other mutters.

Your chest heaves with every ragged breath you take and your vision blurs as you make out the figures of the men. You stumble forward and throw your first punch at the man closet to you but he dodges to the side. You quickly react to this and kick him in the back of the legs, causing him to stumble back. The second man curses under his breath and moves in on you. He reaches out to touch your back but you quickly land a punch on him as well. 

You land a hard punch on the next man, causing him to fly forward and nearly throw up but before you can fight anymore the two others grab your wrists and hold you back. You nearly trip over your own feet as they drag you backward and hold you against the wall. With every beat of your heart, your chest aches terribly, sending ripples of pain through you. 

"She's not going without a fight!"

You throw your head forward and slam your forehead into the man on your right and he lets go of your hand to grab his head. Now that your other hand is free you quickly strike the second man in the throat. He bends forward towards you and you quickly grab his hand, bringing his face down into your knee. There's a loud crackling noise. 

Shoving him backward you send him flying into the man behind him. 

You pant heavily to catch your breath and subconsciously hold a hand to your chest as you watch the man to your left let go of his head and move closer. You attempt to throw a swift punch but the pain in your chest grows to be too much and the hit doesn't do much damage. The man grabs a handful of your hair and tugs your head back. You nearly collapse in pain but he forces you to stand. This time you know you can't fight back. 

You close your eyes and wait for another hit but it is never delivered. 

The heavy tread of footsteps sounds in your ears and before you can even register what's happening the man holding you let's go of your hair and falls onto the ground with a loud thud. You fall to the ground and feel sharp pains in your hands as they break your fall. Rolling onto your back you use your hands to hold the upper half of your body up so you can see. Through the strands of your tangled hair, you make out a terrifying new figure. 

Bucky stands in front of you. Two motionless bodies lay on the ground around him, one in front of him, being held up by his neck in the grasp of his metal hand. 

Finally, Bucky drops the man on the ground, but he doesn't get up again. Your vision is blurry and you can't quite make out his figure, but Bucky is walking towards you. There's a throbbing in your chest but you force yourself to move. You can feel blood soaking folwing in your hands and soaking the inside of your shirt. 

The last thing you remember is reaching out to Bucky as he moves to pick you up in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looove youuuu all. I can never thank you enough for reading :)


	18. Questions With No Answers

A long, haunting shadow is cast across the hardwood floor of your apartment as Bucky steps through the doorway. You lay stiffly in his arms, one hand clutching the fabric of his grey t-shirt, afraid to move in fear that ripples of pain will overwhelm you. He closes the front door behind him with his foot and marches up the stairs to your bed. 

Your mind is still struggling to process what has just happened. As Bucky sets you down on the clean white sheets of your bed you tug at his shirt in protest, not wanting to stain the sheets, but he doesn't listen. Your body practically melts into the comfort of the bed and the cool blankets beneath your burning skin bring a sensational feeling of calmness. You're okay. You're safe now. But how did this attack happen in the first place? How did HYDRA find your location?

Unable to answer your own questions you turn and look at Bucky who is searching for the bag of medical supplies you keep in the bathroom as if he can answer them for you. You move to sit up a little and the pain returns. Bucky exits the bathroom, heads downstairs, and returns with a bowl of water in one hand and a cloth in the other. 

"James..." You breathe out, looking at him with worried eyes as he moves to the bedside.

"Don't move." He tells you, setting the bag down and moving to reach for your shirt. 

"James wait-" You try to stop him from taking it off, knowing he's already worried enough as it is, but he gives you a long hard stare, telling you that he deserves to know the physical state of your body.

You let him ease Stark's grey sweatshirt up and off of your body, wincing at the pain induced by the movement as you lift your arms to make it easier for him. He tosses the article aside and helps you lean against the head of the bed. You close your eyes in the silence that has now been found in the chaos and feel Bucky's hands pull away from you. 

When you open your eyes Bucky is staring back at you, his piercing blue eyes glinting in pain. He says nothing as he pulls the bloody bandages off and takes the soft cloth from the water, carefully beginning to wash the blood from your bullet wound. The stitches have torn slightly and blood runs down your chest, staining your bra. Besides this wound and the cuts on your hands, which Bucky has already noticed, the only other injury you seem to have is a splitting headache.

You can barely stand the worry-filled look in Bucky's eyes and the silence he gives you as he works to fix you up. He's upset. He has every reason to be. But not once has he yelled at you or asked why you didn't come home last night. 

"Please say something," You manage to speak up finally, your shameful eyes finally looking back at him. 

Bucky looks up at you but doesn't respond. Instead, he continues, his touch gentle and his hands skilled as he takes out your stitches and replaces them. He has every right to be upset. But you hate his silence. You'd prefer it if he was scolding you, or even talking about something completely unrelated to yesterday and this morning's attack. 

You wince when Bucky pulls your new stitches tight and he looks at you apologetically. He runs the wet cloth over your wound one last time and then sets the bowl and medical supplies aside as he sits on the edge of the bed. For a moment he sits unmoving, his body turned towards you, but his eyes on the floor. Then, after what seems like forever, he glances at you. The look he gives you is not only one of concern. You can see the fear that dances in his eyes.

Guilt washes over you as he takes your hands in his. The white bandages Bruce had carefully wrapped around them are now torn and soaked in blood. You feel bad knowing that you never came home last night and from the bags under his eyes and the mess of his hair, you can tell Bucky didn't sleep. It wasn't your fault you never came home, but it was your choice to stay for breakfast at the tower and let Bucky worry longer than he should have. 

"Steve and I cornered them," You say finally, pulling your hands away from Bucky's. "Things were finally going well for the team. There must have been a sniper in the building across from us. He shot both of our targets and then tried to take out Steve. I-" You haven't said the words out loud yet. "I took the bullet for him."

Bucky's attention is now steadily fixed on you. His face remains the same but you can see a gleam of surprise in his eyes. 

"I woke up in the tower's infirmary. Steve was sitting in the chair beside me. I was going to leave-" You look up from your hands and desperately seek Bucky's eyes as the guilt bubbles up inside you. "I stayed for breakfast. I know I should have come home- I meant to. It just felt- I just felt-" You can't stop the words from falling. "At home."

Now that you've said it you wish you could take it back. You are a criminal amongst heroes. You don't belong at the tower; you don't belong with the team. Once this mission is over and HYDRA is out of the picture, so are you. You are nothing more than a piece in their game. But if that's true why are they treating you like you're one of them? They owe you nothing. There was no agreement saying they have to treat you like they would a team member. 

You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the head of the bed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"What made you stay?" Bucky asks finally, his voice low and hushed. 

You open your eyes. Even now, aching in pain, unable to move, with multiple conflicting questions in your mind, Steve is not far from your thoughts. And neither is the fuzzy feeling of happiness you felt at the tower. 

When you don't answer, Bucky looks at you more intently. Then after a moment, he seems to understand why you won't meet his eyes. The unreadable expression in your eyes is not pain or fear from the attack. It's guilt from enjoying yourself at breakfast with Steve and the others while he sat by the door, home alone, wondering if you were okay.

Bucky's lips quirk up into a small smile. "How was breakfast?" 

The question catches you off guard and you finally manage to meet his gaze. "What?"

"How was breakfast? What did you have?"

You stare at Bucky in confusion. You search for any sign of anger or unhappiness but Bucky's eyes are true and sincere. He's not upset you stayed for breakfast. He's curious and wants to know how it went and why you stayed. After a long moment of silence, you look away from Bucky and back at your hands, which rest in your lap. 

"It was...nice." You begin slowly, unsure of what to say. "I'd never really eaten breakfast like that. Being Rumlow's shadow and staying hidden away in a HYDRA base all the time, I rarely even had breakfast. With the team-" A smile, unnoticed by you, tugs at your lips. "It was like we were in our own world, hidden away from all the bad." Your smile falters suddenly. "I shouldn't have stayed. I know that now. Something always goes wrong when something good happens."

"That doesn't mean you should avoid the good things altogether," Bucky argues. 

"I'm not," You say quietly. "I have you, don't I?"

Bucky's eyes soften but his expression remains the same. "You're one of them now, (Y/n). You're a good guy. This is your second chance in life. Don't you want to be happy?"

"I  _am_  happy," You argue, moving to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "I'm content just being with you."

"But you can't have them and me. You know that. The closer you get to them the more danger you put yourself in. You can't hide me forever. What happens when Steve decides to stop by again? It would be better if I-"

"James, why are you arguing with me on this?" You ask, your voice straining with emotion. Bucky's eyes find yours. "You're making it sound like you're planning to leave. Like you  _want_  to leave." You know you shouldn't say it but you can't help but wonder why he keeps implying that all your problems will disappear if he leaves. 

Bucky stays silent for a moment. His expression changes to one you can't read, and instead of answering, he changes the subject. "How did those HYDRA agents find your location? Did Rumlow send them?"

Thankful he didn't answer your question and upset that he didn't, you look away. "I don't know."

"It was one thing for Steve and the others to track you, but for HYDRA to, that doesn't make any sense. You've been a ghost for months. There's been no trace of you anywhere besides the places you've been for missions. And even then your whereabouts before and after each event are unknown. How did they find you?"

"There's no way they could have put a tracker on me," You respond quietly, "I would know if they did."

"What I don't understand is why Rumlow wants to reach you so badly," Bucky continues, standing to his feet. He picks up the medical supplies and the bowl of blood-stained water. "Do you think he's useless without you?"

"No, that can't be it. He's more powerful now than he's ever been."

Bucky walks into the bathroom and dumps the bowl of water down the sink. "How do you know?" He asks as he puts the medical supplies up and refrains from looking back as you slip on a new shirt. 

"Just trust me. He is. Something bad is going to happen."

Bucky meets you outside the bathroom and then walks you down the stairs. "Are we safe to stay here?"

"Not for much longer. Even if those agents found me by chance I'm sure they told someone where I live," You sigh at the thought of leaving your beloved home. "I'll look for a new apartment."

"That bag you were holding," Bucky says suddenly as you reach the bottom of the stairs. "It's on the counter."

You pause and glance off to the side. Sure enough, the bag of muffins Steve gave you is sitting on the counter. The brown bag is crumpled and torn in a couple places, but other than that it seems fine. 

You leave Bucky's side and make a b-line for the coffee machine. Although you were happy to drink the coffee Tony poured you at breakfast, you prefer the coffee you make at here, simply because you like it sweeter than the others do. As the coffee brews, you turn around and lean against the counter, subconsciously moving a hand over your chest where the bullet wound still aches. You look at Bucky from your place in the kitchen and find him standing by the windows. 

The grey clouds that had kept their distance from the city now hover above it, casting shadows down on the streets below. As it begins to sprinkle, Bucky steps closer and shoves his hands into the pockets of his black sweatpants. He doesn't say anything more. You can't help but think back to your conversation from earlier. 

It's true that being with the team makes you happy. Despite the wariness you have of them, the team treats you like one of their own. You and Steve have been arguing less and Natasha has made amends with you (for now). You've missed spending time with Clint and even though Bruce and Tony don't know you, they treat you with kindness. It feels good knowing there are people you can rely on. But at the same time, you're not really sure if you can rely on them. 

All you know for now is that maybe- just maybe- this is your chance to have the life you've always wanted. 

A reality better than dreams.  

But you can't imagine a life without Bucky. Leaving your coffee mug behind you walk towards Bucky and step beside him, sliding your arms around his waist as you pull him towards you. Bucky tenses at your touch. He doesn't move to embrace you or wrap his arms around you. Instead, he stands in silence as you hold him. 

You know he's planning to leave. You don't know why. It could be because he's worried the agents who attacked you had tracked him and instead caught you or that he's worried he'll ruin your chances of being with the others. It could be any number of reasons, and all of them would be reasonable, but even so, you can't bear to think of him leaving you. He left you once, the day S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA fell. You thought you were never going to see him again. 

If he leaves this time- you have a feeling it will be your last goodbye.


	19. Washed Away

As the week passes by you find yourself in good health. Within a couple days you're up and about outside, walking the streets of New York City. At Bruce's request and pleading eyes you visited the tower more than once so he could make sure you were doing okay. You've been to the tower so many times by now it almost feels like your second home. 

You've been to the gym downtown more than once as well. You had gone regularly before you started working with the team. When Bucky first found out he fussed over you straining yourself but you assured him you were alright. 

You didn't tell the team about your attack. You figured it was best not to concern them of such a trifle thing when they have bigger problems. There has been no sign of Rumlow anywhere. You might have had some answers if Bucky hadn't killed the men who jumped you but you don't hold it against him. He saved your life, and knowing how tight Rumlow has been pulling the strings of his puppets to keep his secrets, you doubt you would have gotten anything from them.

Ever since then Bucky has been different. Quiet and distant. You know he wants to leave.

As you land hit after hit on the punching back in front of you, all your pent-up emotions flow through you into your fists. The only thing protecting your hands are two strips of cloth you wrapped around them carefully. You are the only person on the top floor of the old gym. Bucky waits at home for you, watching the food you put in the oven. 

It's Thanksgiving. A holiday you've never celebrated before. 

Bucky began to tell you about a Thanksgiving he remembered with Steve and you decided to make a Thanksgiving meal for him. The way he talked about the memory was adoring and you couldn't help but want to do something for him. Only this time, Steve won't be there, and Bucky won't be the same person he was back then. But he will be happy. 

Smiling at the thought of Bucky eagerly waiting for the turkey in the oven to be done, you decide to stop working out and begin to unwrap your hands. Your phone suddenly begins to ring, the tune muffled by the fabric of your duffle bag, which sits on a bench by the wall. You clump the cloth in your hands together and make your way to your bag. You toss the cloth on the bench and then reach in to answer the call. "Hello," You greet whoever is on the other line. 

_"Hey, (Y/n), it's Steve."_

You blink and switch hands, now holding the phone with your left hand. "Hey, Rogers. Is something wrong?" You ask, shoving the cloth in the bag along with your water bottle before picking up your bag. 

_"No, nothing's wrong. I'm out shopping with the others-"_

_"Tell her I said hi!"_  You hear Clint's cheerful voice.

 _"I want to talk to her too-"_  Tony whines.

You can't help but smile to yourself. "You guys go shopping together?"

_"We're shopping for Thanksgiving. Is there anything specific you want?"_

"What?"

_"We have the basics. Stuffing, cornbread, green bean casserole-"_

_"I bought a giant turkey!!"_  You hear Tony interrupt.

 _"Put that down Clint, we're not buying cereal,"_ Natasha is there too.

Your smile only widens and as you make your way to the stairs of the gym to head back to the apartment you feel a lightness in your step. "I uh, I don't know. Get whatever you guys want. Why are you calling?"

_"We want you to come to the tower for Thanksgiving. I mean, assuming you don't have any plans."_

"I-" You're shocked. You barely manage to speak up. "What time?"

 _"Anyone have the time?"_ Steve's voice is quiet for a minute. 

 _"3:24,"_ Tony replies.

_"Everything should be ready by 6. We have a lot to make."_

"I don't know," You say quietly, nodding to the man behind the counter as you exit the gym and step out onto the street. A fuzzy feeling spreads through you, right along with uncertainty. "I don't think that's a good idea."

 _"Sure it is,"_ Steve argues,  _"We'd love to have you- and there's going to be plenty of food."_

"I know but you guys should have Thanksgiving without me. It'd be weird having me there."

_"Come on, (Y/n). We all you want you there. You're one of us."_

Steve's words leave you speechless. You stare at the ground for what seems like forever before looking up, unable to believe what you're hearing. Steve continues.  _"Be here by 5:30. We won't start without you."_

Before you can respond, Steve ends the call and you find yourself staring at the screen of your phone. Did he really just invite you over for Thanksgiving with the team? Yes. But should you go? Two Thanksgivings in one day is a bit excessive. Perhaps it was a good thing you and Bucky only decided to have Turkey, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes. 

You wave down a taxi and tell the driver your location. When the door is closed and the car is off, you look back down at the phone in your hands. This is your life now. Spending time with the Avengers and leaving Bucky at home. 

When you get home Bucky is sitting at the counter. The timer on the stove only has three minutes left for the turkey and it's now 3:38. The corn still sits in a pot on the stove and the mashed potatoes are on the counter beside it in a large glass bowl. Bucky has set out the salt and butter as well as two paper plates, silverware, and cups. He greets you with an eager look of excitement, a visible hunger in his eyes, along with pride that he didn't set the place on fire.

"Did you baste the turkey?" You ask, managing a small smile. 

He nods in response, watching as you carry your duffle bag to the laundry room beneath the stairs. "It's looking really good. Couple more minutes and we'll be ready to eat. I even opened the sparkling grape juice."

"I thought there were three bottles?" You comment as you strip off your sweaty clothes and throw them in the washer. 

Bucky clears his throat. "I may have...poured myself a glass or two while you were gone."

"You  _drank_  the whole bottle?" 

"I couldn't stop myself!"

You turn away from the washer and shake your head fondly at him. As you head up the stairs to put on new clothes, the timer goes off and you hear Bucky scramble to take the turkey out. You continue to smile, knowing Bucky is excited to have his first Thanksgiving since the 1940's. You too are excited but your thoughts linger on Steve and the others. 

You take a quick shower, feeling refreshed as your sweat and stress are washed away. Only a few minutes later after a quick wash of your hair and body, you step out and quickly dress, not wanting to keep Bucky waiting too long. 

"The turkey looks good," You hear Bucky call up to you. "Want me to serve up the plates?"

"If you want," You call back, slipping into a pair of light blue jeans. 

You finish getting dressed by pulling a striped white and black shirt over your head. As you hurry down the stairs, you pause to put on one of your long white socks, continue a bit further and then stop to put on the next one. Bucky stands in the kitchen, scooping mashed potatoes onto both plates. You slip beside him and snatch two cobs of corn, placing them on the plates as well. The two of you switch places and he picks up the utensils for cutting the turkey. 

The apartment is cold due to the weather outside. Brick apartments don't exactly heat well. The fireplace has been inactive for a while, simply because you haven't had the time to buy more firewood. 

Bucky takes your plate before you can pick it up and places two slices of turkey on it. You take it back and then he quietly serves himself as you move to sit at the counter. Bucky smiles a rare smile at you and then sets his plate down beside yours, but moves to pour you and him a glass of sparkling grape juice first before sitting down. 

"Cheers?" You question as you hold up your cup. 

Bucky merely looks at you as he clinks his cup against yours, a small smile still on his lips. The two of you take a drink of the rich liquid and then proceed to dig into the food. It's nothing special. The two of you aren't exactly rich. The food sits on flimsy paper plates and the turkey is small. But to the two of you, it's the perfect meal. 

"So I found a nice apartment downtown by that gym I've been going to," You say quietly. 

Bucky hums in response, his mouth full of mashed potatoes and turkey. "Is it good?"

"It's not as good as this one but we can afford it. It wouldn't just be us and it's not the best room but it's cozy. Two bedrooms instead of one," You smirk at him. "Not that I don't love sleeping in the same bed as you."

"I know what you're implying," He says, looking at you pointedly. "I don't take all the blankets."

"You don't just take all the blankets, you take all the room too! I can never change positions without feeling your cold feet on my skin! Your toes are always freezing cold- it's not a pleasant feeling."

Bucky sets down his fork and lifts his leg up, pushing his bare feet towards you. "You like it."

"No, I most certainly do  _not!"_   You're unable to stop the laugh that escapes you. 

He smirks at you, letting his leg back down as he reaches for his glass. "The apartment sounds nice."

Your smile only widens, turning into a bright grin as you look at him. You continue to help yourself to the plate in front of you and can't help but think about how good the future is looking. So maybe your lead on Rumlow is dead, and maybe Rumlow's lead on you is hot and steady, but you can barely think about those things when everything is going well for you and Bucky. Besides that, you are part of the team now. You're one of the good guys. Your life is getting better. 

To think when you started this mission you had promised yourself that you wouldn't get in too deep. All you wanted was to right your wrongs and prove to the world that you weren't bad. That you weren't a monster. Two months ago, if anyone had even suggested that one day you would be a hero, you wouldn't have believed them. 

As the hours pass by, you and Bucky speak quietly in each other's company. Bucky tells you what he remembers about his last Thanksgiving, his memories before his fall, and how he feels now. He's getting better every day that passes. 

Of course, Bucky still has nightmares. Sometimes they trigger something inside of him and the Winter Soldier takes over. The Bucky before HYDRA- the Bucky Steve knew- is gone. And no matter how much Bucky remembers, he will never be the same person he was in the past. Which is something you desperately wish you could tell Steve. You have a feeling Steve is going to be crushed when he learns that he is never really going to get his best friend back. 

Instead of doing the dishes right after your meal, you and Bucky move all the dishes off to the side by the sink and head upstairs to lay in bed. "Did you turn the oven off?" You murmur as you stare at the ceiling above you. 

"Mhm." Bucky moves his hands behind his head. 

"Should we have gotten pumpkin pie?"

"Mhm."

In the silence of the apartment, you and Bucky lay unmoving on the bed. For today, all your worries and concerns are pushed aside and all you can think about is the time you have with Bucky. After all, you never know when it will be your last. You can only hope that as each day passes by, Bucky finds a reason to stay. The silence is suddenly interrupted by the gentle tapping of rainfall on the windows. You can't help but want to break the silence too. 

"James," You say his name quietly. He turns his head and looks at you. "I don't want you to leave."

"I can't stay..." Bucky tells you, his voice just as soft as yours. 

"You can't keep running away."

"I know I can't."

Bucky moves his hands and rests them on his stomach, staring back up at the ceiling. Now that he's said it, he realizes how much he means those four words. He knows he can't run away forever. He's bound to be caught eventually. But he doesn't want you anywhere near him when he is. It doesn't matter who catches him. Neither Steve nor HYDRA will let you get away if they catch you with Bucky. He knows that. But he also can't bring himself to leave...

Around 5 o'clock you slip out of bed and look at Bucky's sleeping form as you debate on whether or not to leave for the team's Thanksgiving. By 5:06 you've fixed your hair and set a note beside Bucky on the bed. You're worried he might leave while you're gone, but you have hope today made him want to stay- even if only for one more day. 

As silently as possible you slip on a pair of boots and make your way down the stairs. You feel bad for not bringing anything to the dinner, but you have a feeling there will be more than enough food to go around. 

"You're going to the tower for Thanksgiving?" You hear Bucky's voice from the top of the stairs. 

You turn around and look at him with wide eyes, startled by his sudden appearance. "Sorry if I woke you," You apologize, smiling slightly. "I am. I don't know what time I'll be home. Probably around 8."

"Stay as long as you like," Bucky says, leaning against the metal railing. "You could have told me."

"I know," You look away. "I just. Feel guilty going, you know? You've been home alone a lot lately."

"I don't mind," He smiles. "I guess I should get out of the house too. Where's that gym you always go to? I need to work off that Thanksgiving meal we had." He rustles his messy hair and heads back to the bed. 

"I wrote the address down on a sheet of paper. It's on the fridge." You open the door.

"Try and come back without a hole in your chest this time, alright?"

"No promises."

When you step out onto the porch of your apartment you're met with the smell of fallen rain and wet leaves. The sky is still grey and the clouds overhead have not seemed to move all day. You zip up your leather jacket to keep out the cold and wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. As you walk down the street your mind clears and the sleepiness of your body wears off. Rain sprinkles down on you from above and you shudder, longing for warmth. 

For quite a few weeks you've been anticipating a good thunderstorm, but the light shower is welcome. Although you see no thunder or lightning, your heart is content. Your eyes follow the people in the city and you watch as some of them run for cover underneath stores while others peacefully walk down the sidewalk just as you are. 

By the time you reach the tower it's raining more heavily and you jog lightly to take shelter beneath the arched frame of the large doorway. Immediately J.A.R.V.I.S. is at your service.  **"Miss (Y/n)."**

"Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S.. I'm not too early am I?"

 **"Not at all,"** J.A.R.V.I.S. tells you.  **"But I'm afraid the dinner has been canceled."**

You shove your hands into the pockets of your leather jacket. You take in what he's said and then take a step back out into the rain. "I see," You say quietly, "Well, thank you anyways, J.A.R.V.I.S."

**"I'll let the Captain know you're here."**

"No, that's okay," You step onto the sidewalk. "I'm going."

You turn your back on the tower and take your first steps, walking away from it. You shouldn't have come in the first place. As you make your way down the sidewalk, you focus on the rain around you and fail to hear the door to the tower open and close loudly. Behind you, Steve stands out in the rain, first looking left, and then right. When he catches sight of you on the right, he breaks out into a jog and hurries to catch up with you, an umbrella in hand. 

"(Y/n)!" Steve calls out to you, causing you to pause and look back. "(Y/n), wait!"

You stop on the sidewalk and turn to face him, hair and clothes damp from the rain. You're kind of upset if you're being honest. He could have at least called and told you that the dinner was off. 

"I'm sorry," He says first, holding the umbrella over you. "I was just about to call you. I didn't think you would be early." Steve sighs, moving so he too is underneath the large umbrella. "We found one of our two bases. The San Francisco base. We couldn't afford to waste any more time so we sent Clint and Natasha out a few hours ago."

You wrap your arms around yourself. "Clint left?"

"Yeah," Steve smiles weakly. "He was pretty upset. Guess he really wanted to eat."

You avert your gaze and look at the ground, running a hand through your wet hair. "Well, I guess let me know when they're back," You look back at him and take a step back. "Happy Thanksgiving, Rogers."

You begin to turn your back on him but Steve reaches out. "Wait," He stops you. "Let me walk you home."

"No, it's okay. It's not far from here."

Steve smiles at you. "Let me walk you home, (Y/n)."

You stare at Steve for a moment before finally looking away reluctantly. You turn your back on him. "Let's go then."

Steve's smile widens and he falls into step with you, making sure the umbrella in his hand is protecting you from the rainfall. The water droplets beat gently on it as he holds it over your head. A cool gust of wind blows past you, causing a shiver to run up your spine. You glance at Steve from the corner of your eye and abruptly look away when you meet his gaze. 

"We could stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Steve suggests suddenly. 

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your jacket and shake your head meekly. "I'll eat at home," You say. "I'm moving into a new apartment. I just thought I should let you know."

"You're moving?" He repeats, looking at you quizzically. "Why?"

_Because Rumlow's closing in on me._

You shrug. "The one I live in now is a bit expensive." 

"Why didn't you say something?" He asks, "Tony would be more than happy to-"

"I'm not some charity case, Rogers. You guys have done enough for me. I can take care of myself."

"I know," Steve smiles when you look back at him. 

His eyes find the sidewalk but you continue to look at him. Then after a moment, you look away. "I have to admit, it's nice knowing I have somebody to catch me when I'm not able to hold myself up."

Steve glances at you, his eyes reflecting the sadness in yours. As he observes your cracked lips that rarely hold a smile and the glint of unhappiness in your eyes, he realizes that he has never taken your feelings into consideration. Even when Steve had nobody, he had the world to welcome him with open arms. All you had was yourself until now. 

From what Clint has told him, you haven't been in good shape since HYDRA set you free, and now that Rumlow is supposedly doing everything in his power to get to you, Steve can't even imagine what you might be going through. 

"If you need anything," Steve says suddenly, his voice quiet. "I'm here, (Y/n)."

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I don't need saving, Rogers."

"I'm not saying you do, I just- I want to be-" Steve suddenly slows down, eventually stopping.

You turn and look back at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. When he notices you're getting rained on, he closes the distance between the two of you and holds the umbrella over your head, now mere inches in front of you. 

"I want to be-" Steve struggles with the words and you find yourself staring intently at him. There's almost a pained glint in his eyes as he looks at you. He wants to tell you something. He wants to tell you something so badly but he can't bring himself to say the words. And suddenly it's like everything around you has faded. 

"I want to be someone to you," He breathes out, his grip tightening on the umbrella. 

You stare at him in complete and utter confusion. "What are you talking about?" 

"I want to be someone you turn to when everyone else turns you away," He says suddenly, his eyes seeking yours. "I want to be someone you can tell anything to- someone who can help you carry the weight of the world when it's on your shoulders. I don't want to be strangers- or even teammates. I- I want to know you better."

The rain beats gently on the umbrella overhead. Your eyes bore into Steve's with such an intensity you force yourself to look away. His words have left you nearly speechless. You pull away from him before he gets any closer.

"What happens when this mission is over?" You ask finally, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. 

Steve is silent for a moment. He swallows thickly and for a moment you swear he feels a thousand miles away. "I don't know," He tells you in a low voice. His eyes have fled to the ground as well. 

You nod slowly, smiling bitterly to yourself. You hold up your head and meet his eyes once more before you turn your back and continue walking towards your apartment. Steve follows close behind you, doing his best to keep in step with you. After a moment of silence, you glance at his sullen expression and decide to start a new conversation.

"I don't want you to know me, Rogers," You sigh, "My past is messy and I'm even messier. But if you really don't want to stay strangers, tell me something about yourself." Glancing over, you catch him staring at you. 

"I'm sure you know enough about me," He says, smiling weakly. "The world knows me better than I know myself."

His eyes find the sidewalk again but you continue watching him. Yes, the world knows enough about Captain America to fill more than enough novels, but how much do they know about Steve Rogers? If you asked one person on the street what they knew about Steve Rogers they would tell you something they knew about Captain America. Some of them might not even know who you're talking about straight away if you use Steve's real name. 

You smile slightly and look ahead of you. Your apartment is just up ahead. You gather all the words you want to say and choose them carefully before you speak. "I don't know one damn thing about you, Rogers. You're a good person, I know that much. But I want to know about Steve Rogers- not the high and mighty Captain America."

Steve's eyes soften but he refuses to look back at you. "I'm not the Steve Rogers I was before the ice," He whispers. "After everything that has happened, and after everything I've been through, I don't even know if he exists anymore."

"Steve," You sigh softly, coming to a stop as you turn to face him. His clear blue eyes bore into yours, revealing a sadness you've never seen before. "He exists as much as you let him exist."

When the words sink in, Steve let's out a shallow breath, one he didn't know he was holding. Although it has only been months that Steve has known you, it feels as though he has known you forever. The clarity you give him now is something he clings to tightly and will never let go of. Suddenly realizing that the rain is now pouring down on you and him, Steve, who hadn't noticed he let the umbrella lower, holds it above both of your heads again. 

Seeing your apartment ahead, Steve motions for you to follow and the two of you continue your walk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Thanks for bearing with me and I hope you enjoy this new chapter...


	20. So Close

You stare at the apartment windows as you grow closer to the large brick building. The lights are off and the window on the side of it, your bedroom window, is closed, meaning Bucky has left already.

Your hands suddenly begin to shake, relief washing over you as you step up to the porch. Now you don't have to explain to Steve why your "landlord" is running around your apartment while you're away. You stuff your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket in case Steve notices and turn around to face him as he stands silently at the bottom of the steps. 

"I'm sorry about dinner," Steve tells you, smiling despite the circumstances. 

"Don't be," You shake your head meekly. "I'm glad we found the San Francisco base."

"I'm sure Clint will call you right away for the mission report."

You only hum in response, suddenly feeling uncomfortable standing on your porch in the rain. Your clothes cling to you tightly and the leather jacket you're wearing is no protection against the cold. You find yourself staring back at Steve, who seems unsure or what to say or do. So you finally decide to part ways with him. 

"Thanks for walking me home, Rogers."

You turn your back on Steve and reach for the knob. Steve sighs behind you and you can't help but look back at him. He stands with his hand loosely clasped on the umbrella. His hair is finely swept back, nearly untouched by the rain, and his clothes are sprinkled here and there with rain droplets. His eyes, however, capture your attention most. They hold the same intensity they did earlier but there's something new- something unreadable- in his gaze. 

He licks his lips and takes a step forward, about to speak again, when the wind suddenly picks up. The umbrella is pulled straight from his hands and into the air. The color in Steve's face drains and you can't stop the laugh that erupts from your throat as he throws his arm out desperately to catch it. His attempt fails. 

The umbrella takes off down the sidewalk and Steve stumbles to follow after it. You bend forward, breathless as you let your laughter escape you. The sound is almost unfamiliar to you but you pay no mind as you quickly follow Steve down the street, watching him disappear behind the corner of the block. Your clothes are officially soaked but you pay no mind to them as you chase Steve. The second you turn the corner of the block, you slam right into Steve's sturdy figure. 

You stumble back, your laughter ceasing as your foot slips off the edge of the curb behind you. You begin to fall backward but Steve manages to catch your hand. "Gotcha!" He cries triumphantly. Or so he thinks. 

As Steve pulls you to your feet, his own feet lose grip on the curb as well and he begins to fall backward instead.  You hold tightly onto his hand as if to catch him but with as he falls, you find yourself being dragged along with him. With wide eyes and a sharp gasp, all you manage to say as you fall is "HEAVY!".

You manage deep breaths between laughs and pull away from Steve. He has caught your fall with his own and although he groans in pain, a smile rests on his lips. You pull back the wet strands of your hair to see his face better and let out another laugh as you gaze down at him. With a sheepish smile he sits up and as well and you hurriedly untangle yourself from him, sitting back on your knees, not caring that you get mud on your jeans. 

"My hero," You say sarcastically with a glint of amusement in your eyes. 

Steve holds the umbrella in his left hand, which is likely the reason why he was unable to catch you with both, but his attention is now solely fixed on you. He grins a rare, lopsided smile and slowly he stands to his feet, pulling you up with him, captivated by your soft, carefree laugh. Soon enough he is laughing too, only softer so he can hear yours.

As your laughter subsides, you rest your hand on your chest, feeling an ache from your wound through the fuzzy feeling of happiness within you. Steve's eyes are wide and bright as he stares at you in wonder. 

"You- laughed?" He breathes out, his smile only growing.

"I'm sorry," You cover your own smile with your free hand. "I shouldn't have."

"Please. Don't apologize."

"You've got mud on your face," You say, brushing your own cheek in a gesture to where it is on his face.

"It's okay," He runs a hand through his wet hair and then takes a look at his hand, making sure it's not scraped. Steve steps closer towards you, holding the umbrella over both your heads. "Ready to head home?" He asks. 

You nod in response, unable to stop smiling at him. Your cheeks almost hurt and you're pretty damn sure you just gained abs from laughing so hard. The two of you turn back, walking closer together than before as you head for the apartment. The scene from before replays and you find yourself climbing the steps of your apartment.

This time when you turn around, Steve's expression is softer and his eyes are warm. His shirt, which had been tucked before you crashed into him, is now untucked, muddy and wet. His wet hair sticks up in places it doesn't when it's dry and even now, his clothes disheveled and his appearance a mess, he looks perfect standing in the rain. You don't even scold yourself for thinking so. You simply stare at him in wonder. How lucky are you to have met someone like him.

"Steve," You say his name softly as you open the door to your apartment. "Please. Come in."

For a moment, all Steve can manage to do is stare back at you, unsure of what to do. You roll your eyes fondly at him and step inside. "I'm not going to let you walk home in the rain. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

Steve slowly takes his first step towards you, his eyes never leaving yours as he follows you into the apartment. When you are both inside you close the door securely behind him and make your way towards the fireplace. When you realize Steve didn't follow you, you turn around to see why he has stopped. You smirk when he meets your gaze. 

"I don't care if you get the floor wet," You tell him sincerely. 

"Are you sure?" He asks hesitantly, easily slipping out of his socks and shoes. 

"I'm positive."

You can't help but shiver as turn on the kitchen light, dimly illuminating the room. The building falls silent and for a time only the sound of the rain tapping on the windows can be heard. You take off your socks and shoes as well, setting them besides Steve's by the door before you decide to head for the stairs. "I'll grab you a towel."

Steve steps away from the front door and into the living room. He shoves his hands into the depths of his pant pockets and glances over at the kitchen. His eyebrows furrow when he notices the dishes by the sink. Two plates and two glasses along with two empty bottles of sparkling grape juice and a third that is full. Unaware that you had company, and from the looks of it, company for Thanksgiving, Steve looks up at the stairs in mild confusion. 

You meet his gaze but fail to recognize the confusion in his eyes as you meet him at the bottom of the stairs. You stand before him, your chest tightening at the close proximity. You still can't believe you let him in your apartment. Especially when Bucky could be back at any time. These thoughts fade however when you find yourself stepping closer.

And suddenly it's like you're not thinking at all. 

You take another step towards Steve and notice his body tense. His eyes have not once left yours and the unreadable glint in his eyes returns. You reach out to him, cupping his left cheek gently. Steve looks as if he's going to break. The moment your hand touches his cheek, gently wiping away the mud from his skin, his eyes soften. The look he gives you is unmistakable but unreadable. He's telling you everything and yet nothing at all. You need to look away. 

_Why can't you look away?_

Your hand begins to retreat but before it does, Steve's hand catches it. His action startles you and your eyes dart from your hands back to his face. His lips part as if to say something, but no words come out. Finally, after a moment, he let's go of your hand and steps back, silently taking the towel from your hand as he smiles weakly at you. 

"Thank you," He murmurs his gratitude. 

You shake the stirring thoughts in your head and the knot in your stomach, moving towards the fireplace. You throw in the last of your firewood into the pit and pull a small bin of crumbled files and papers beside it towards you. "The bathroom is upstairs on the left. You can take the first shower," You tell him as you shove the paper beneath the logs. 

Steve glances up the stairs. "I- Well, I mean-" He begins to stutter. "I shouldn't-"

"You should. I don't mind, really." You reach for the lighter on the mantle of the fireplace before kneeling down in front of it and lighting a fire. "I'll be up in a minute to grab your clothes. Just leave them outside the door."

He shoots you a hesitant look but eventually pushes himself to climb the stairs. He glances back at you once before continuing. He nods to himself and then walks through the darkness of your room, focused on the light of the bathroom on the right. As he passes by, however, he notices more to add to his suspicions of you having company. 

The white blankets of your bed have two indents on either side. One pillow rests on the left whereas two rest on the right and both sides seem to have been slept on. It could be nothing, he reminds himself. And that's when he notices a small basket of clothes on the left side of the bed by the wall. It holds much larger clothes than that of what you wear. Of course, it could be nothing.  _It's probably nothing._ But he decides to take a closer look anyway. 

Before Steve has barely taken a step closer, you appear at the top of the stairs. Noticing your presence he stiffens and turns just enough to see you. Your eyes are reflecting the firelight downstairs. There's something hidden behind the flames that burn but Steve doesn't bother figuring out what he's consumed by the beauty of the fire. 

"Take your time in the shower," You break the silence. "I'll set your clothes on the bed when they're washed."

The fire in your eyes is not the reflection of the flames in the fireplace. The flames in your eyes are your own. If only he knew what had sparked the fire. You can only hope he never does. Steve breaks your gaze and turns away, disappearing into the bathroom. The door closes shut behind him and you quickly look at the basket of clothes. 

You nearly dive to your knees as you reach for Bucky's basket of dirty clothes. How could you have been so thoughtless? Not only did you leave implications that you had someone over for Thanksgiving, but you haven't hidden any of Bucky's things. Although you feel no panic you hurry and dump Bucky's clothes in one of the drawers on his side of the dresser. You close the drawer quickly and gather all the notebooks and file folders sitting on the dresser. 

You've been helping Bucky remember things about his past by keeping files, pictures, and notebooks full of information in folders for him. If Steve had noticed any of these things, he might think you're looking for the Winter Soldier on your own. If he puts the dishes, the clothes, and the more obvious signs that someone is living with you, he might even suspect that you're living with Bucky. Whether or not he will think you're living with him, you may never know. 

While Steve is in the shower you light a couple candles that stand on the mantle of the fireplace and take in the sweet, warm scent of caramel as it burns.  _Steve is in your apartment._ _Steve is taking a shower in your apartment._

You shake the thoughts and sigh softly, beginning to pull off your own clothes. Your relationship with Steve has come a long from since you first met. Or since you officially met. You may have been with him when Bucky pulled him from the water in D.C. but you didn't officially meet him until you met with the team on the day of your first mission.

Tossing your clothes in the washer you head back upstairs, completely stripped of your clothes. You turn to the dresser by the closet and reach down in one of the drawers for new underwear. 

The door to the bathroom opens, not more than a crack and Steve peeks out, his arm outstretched as he sets his clothes on the floor. Noticing your figure in the dark, outlined by the light coming from the stairs, Steve looks up, his wide eyes fixed on you. You stand in black underwear, clipping your matching bra securely, completely vulnerable. 

Steve stands straighter, looking at you with sad eyes as he scans your body. Even in the dark he can see the scars that mark your skin- the scars brought upon you by the hatred of HYDRA. Instead of frowning upon them, Steve takes them in as more details of the beautiful piece of art that you are. In his eyes, every part of you is beautiful. The longer he looks at you, the more details he takes in. His eyes trace the curve of your back to your shoulders...your jaw...your lips. 

Pulling his eyes away from your body, Steve closes the bathroom door as silently as possible.

Despite his best effort, you hear the door close and glance over at the bathroom. Your eyes catch sight of the clothes on the floor and you gaze back up at the door for a moment before deciding it's best not to think about whether or not Steve had seen you. You throw on a loose-fitting sweatshirt and pair of black leggings before picking up his clothes and heading back down the stairs to throw them in the washer. The building is just beginning to warm up. 

By the time Steve pulls back the shower curtains and steps out onto the black rug next to the shower, reaching for a fluffy white towel on the hook beside him, his clothes are in the dryer and you have cleaned up the house. 

 Steam collects near the ceiling and the mirror hanging above the sink is all foggy. Steve takes no interest in looking at his reflection and begins to dry his body, his eyes on the closed door beside him. Could it be possible that you're hiding something from him-- someone from him? Knowing he won't find the answers by staring at the door he wraps the towel around his waist and exits the bathroom, the smell of the candles downstairs reaching him. 

His clothes sit, washed and dried, folded neatly on your bed, which appears to have been made.  His eyes wander back towards the basket but the clothes sitting in it are different. Or they might be. He can't really remember what he saw. 

"Steve?" Your voice sounds from the bottom of the stairs. 

"Yeah," He calls back, pulling his shirt over his head. "Give me a second. I'll be down."

He hurriedly puts his clothes back on and begins to dry his hair with the towel as he walks down the stairs. You take the wet towel from him and glance up at his hair, smiling fondly at him. "Your hair is a mess."

Steve smirks. "Yours is worse."

You turn away from him and throw the wet towel in the washer. Steve wanders into the living room and stands in front of the fire. You close the door to the laundry room and turn back around, looking at Steve with curious eyes. Now that he's showered you're sure he's going to go home. You weren't supposed to have invited him inside in the first place.

Glancing over at the windows you see the rain has stopped. You don't know for how long.  Now all you hear is the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. As you draw closer, walking up behind Steve, he turns and looks back at you. Your eyes don't leave his until you're standing beside him, taking in the warmth of the fire. The entire apartment smells of caramel and the sweet scent adds to the comfort of the apartment. You sigh contently, hugging yourself as you watch the fire. 

"I have been trying so hard to stay away from you," You say softly, smiling despite the ache in your heart. "Once this is all over...you won't need me anymore. And I've been  _trying_  to stay away because I know that it's going to hurt like hell leaving you and the others behind. I'm at the top of the world. I don't want to go back down, Steve..."

You look at him with a sad smile and Steve eyes soften. He moves closer towards you- so close you can feel his warmth radiating off of him as he reaches out and takes your hand. His touch is careful and hesitant, your fingertips in his palm. 

"Then stay," He whispers. 

Though his voice is quiet, you can hear his words clearly. They play through your mind over and over again. Your heart is beating furiously and you can feel the longing within you- the longing you've tried so hard to push away. You trust him. You trust him with all your heart, soul, and mind. You want to stay so badly. But why? Why are you willing to risk everything you've worked so hard to build? Your walls are crumbling. You're letting him in. Why?

 

Steve moves closer, his eyes never leaving yours. Your thoughts are scattered pixels in your mind and all you can think about is Steve. How close he is- how impossible it is for you to be with him. And yet here you are. 

A quiet ringing suddenly shatters the silence. Steve looks away from you, his eyes on the counter by the bar where his phone sits. Steve doesn't move and his grip on your hand tightens as if he doesn't plan to let go, but you pull away and leave him no choice. Glancing back at you, Steve walks over to the counter and reluctantly answers his phone. 

"Hello?" His eyes are still on you, your dark figure illuminated by the firelight. 

 _"Steve,"_ It's Natasha. Her voice is urgent. 

"Are you and Clint back from the mission?" 

_"Yes. Where are you?"_

"I'm with (Y/n)." He replies slowly. 

Natasha is silent for a moment.  _"We found files on her. A lot of them. Maybe every file HYDRA ever made on her."_

Steve tears his eyes away from you and sighs, looking at the floor. "Natasha-"

_"She knows where Bucky is, Steve."_

Time has slowed to a stop. In the warmth of the apartment, a cold chill finds Steve, crawling up his spine. He turns his back to you, hiding his stunned expression as he stares out the windows of the apartment at the rain. 

"I'm on my way," Steve mutters, ending the call soon after. He stares at the phone in confusion as well as horror. Natasha must be mistaken. There's no one you would know enough about Bucky to know his location. There's no way you would hide that from him either, especially after everything he's been through trying to look for him. 

"I have to go," Steve says without an explanation, walking to the front door stiffly to put on his shoes. 

You remain by the fire, arms crossed over your chest. You say nothing and don't bother turning to watch him go. You were so close to him. You were too close. You can't stop thinking about what might have happened if his phone had not rung. When Steve has his shoes on again, his hand on the doorknob, he glances back at you. His heart is racing. He can't tell if it's because he had been so close to you or because fear now has a tight hold of him. 

You would never lie to him about something as big as this. That's way too big of a risk to take. You wouldn't lie to him when you're second chance is on the line- when your  _life_  is on the line. 

Would you?


	21. Uncovered Truths

For a moment, Steve does not have the strength to exit the elevator. He meets eyes with Natasha across the room and steps out onto the main floor, clenching his fists unknowingly. By the bar on the left side of the room, Clint leans against the counter, his arms folded stiffly over his chest. Sam is there as well, waiting patiently like the rest. 

As Steve walks past the glass windows beside the stairs he doesn't bother to observe the lab beneath him. He climbs the stairs, passes by the living area, and stands stiffly in front of the others at the bar. 

"How'd the mission go?" Steve asks slowly. 

Natasha glances back at Clint. "The mission went fine. We caught them during their evacuation."

"They had almost everything packed up in their air crafts," Clint says in a low voice. "Natasha went inside the base and shut things down; I blew a couple air crafts up but we managed to scavenge a few things we thought Stark might want to have a look at." As he speaks, his eyes remain trained on the floor, his body still tense. 

"That's when I found these," Natasha says quietly, stepping aside so Steve can look at the countertop. 

Stepping closer, Steve reaches out and gently rests his hands on the pile of red and black folders in front of him. As he sprawls them out he glances back up at Natasha. "And all of these are on her?"

"Every single one."

Taking a deep breath, Steve slowly opens a particular red folder and peers down at the contents. Sure enough. These files are on you. The first paper Steve sees causes his heart to sink. The paper not only holds your full name, your birthday, hometown, and a description of you but a picture as well. Only the picture is faded and the woman is unrecognizable. 

It's not a picture of you. It's a picture of HYDRA's puppet. 

Suddenly feeling sick, Steve turns the page, not wanting to look at your lifeless face any longer, but it only gets worse. There are more pictures. Pictures of you and Brock Rumlow, you and Alexander Pierce and other agents, but in most of them, you're alone. The pictures are attached to different missions, and on the pages behind them are the mission reports. This folder is HYDRA's file on you and your work as one of their operatives. It even holds a list of people you've killed. 

"Are they categorized in any way?" Steve asks, closing the red folder. 

Natasha steps closer and slides two black folders towards him first, "These are personal files on her. One is before she joined HYDRA and the other is after." Next, she slides two more over. "These are full of pictures and miscellaneous things- like her progress as an agent, medical procedures she's been through, and her place with Brock Rumlow."

"They have a file on her life before she was an agent? She wasn't raised into HYDRA?"

"No, but there's nothing in that file besides pictures and locations of her whereabouts."

Opening the file on your past life, Steve finds himself staring at blurry pictures of a sixteen-year-old girl with light in her eyes. In one specific picture that catches his eye, you are kneeling in the grass in the front yard of a small blue house, happily petting a dog. The picture strikes him with pain and he closes the folder slowly. 

"I thought Fury said every file on her was completely buried," He says, looking up at Sam

"HYDRA must have had more that we didn't know about." Sam shrugs in response. "But what I want to know is why you were over at (Y/n)'s place. Tony said you've been gone for a while."

Steve averts his gaze, struggling to find the words to respond, but Natasha speaks first. "We can talk about this later. Right now our focus should be on this." She pulls another black folder from the pile of files.

Immediately Clint turns away again, his jaw tightening. Steve watches him lean against the counter again, falling silent once more. Whatever this particular file holds is more than upsetting to Clint. That or he's worried about the conversation that will go on once Steve has seen what's inside. Either way, Steve dreads what's inside the folder.

Taking the black folder from Natasha, Steve takes a deep breath and opens it up, glancing warily down at the contents. Instantly, Steve tenses, his hands tightly gripping the open folder. Turning away from everyone else, he takes in every detail of the pictures staring back at him, hoping to find some hidden lie or sign of faulty printing. When he finds the pictures are in fact real, although faded and even blurry, his heart nearly stops. 

"She told me she only worked with him on the sidelines," He mutters, turning the page to look at more pictures. 

This isn't just a file on you. It's a file on your partnership with the Winter Soldier- with Bucky. Although Steve doesn't read Russian, he can tell the information in the file revolves around your relationship with Bucky because of how often your names appear. The pictures are a dead give away as well. There aren't just pictures of you out on a mission with him. In one picture you sit across from each other in the dark hallway of HYDRA base, backs against the wall. 

In another, the picture Steve can't pull his eyes away from, you're sitting on the floor with a bloody lip and scattered bruises beside HYDRA's brainwashing chair, holding Bucky's hand as he lays unconscious in it. 

"She knows where Bucky is, Steve," Natasha says finally. 

Steve still does not look up. "How do you know?"

Stepping closer, Sam reaches over and flips to the last page in the folder. There is not just one, but several English printed news articles that are clipped together. Attached to the page are two photos Steve can't believe he has never seen. 

In the first, you kneel in the mud beside Steve's unconscious body at the waterfront, trees and brush behind you. It's dated the day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell in D.C.. Just as you had confessed before, you were there that day in D.C.. But you failed to mention you had been the one to call the ambulance for him. For a moment, Steve is unsure of his feelings. A part of him hates you for lying about everything, but another is compassionate.  _Why did you stay with him?_

His longing to know why you stayed on the shore with him fades as he looks at the next photo. You disappear into the brush, the dark figure of a man waiting for you there. Reading the article below, Steve finds his chest tightening: 

_After possibly rescuing Captain America from drowning when he was violently thrown from a hellicarrier falling from the sky, the unidentified woman dialed 911 and waited on the shore with our unconscious hero until emergency vehicles arrived._

Steve glances at the second picture one last time before finally closing the folder. "She left with Bucky."

"That doesn't mean she knows where he is," Clint sighs. 

"But she knows his last whereabouts. She might even know his current. We won't know until we find out. If she lied about something as big as not knowing Bucky when it's clear these files state they were inseparable, who knows what else she has lied about. What if she still communicates with Bucky? Or even Rumlow."

Steve drops the folder on the counter amongst the others and looks at Natasha, who has remained silent for a while now. Her eyes, however, are on Clint and the pained expression on her face speaks volumes. As if having finally decided upon something in her mind, she reaches over and grabs the last unopened file.

"There's something else we need to discuss," She says quietly as she offers the folder to Steve, who takes it without hesitation. Even after seeing all the other files, this one surprises him the most.

Steve can tell by the stiffness of the paper and the fine black ink that this file is new. He can almost smell the ink of the photo attached to it. And although the picture is a few days old, it has recently been printed. 

Slowly, Steve lowers the folder but keeps it tight within his grasp. "This photo-"

"It was taken the morning she left the tower- after our previous mission." Sam finishes for him. 

Steve's eyebrows furrow and he gazes in confusion at the picture of you walking barefoot down the sidewalk, the brown paper bag of chocolate muffins in your hand as you make your way towards your apartment. 

"(Y/n) isn't safe in that apartment anymore and I think we should let her stay in the tower," Clint states firmly, pushing himself off to the counter to stand once more. "She'll be safe with us."

"That is  _not_  something up for debate. She's not staying with us," Natasha argues, staring fiercely back at him. 

"Hold on," Sam sputters, "I haven't been here in a while. You need to fill me in on what's happened while I was gone."

Steve glances at Sam and then back at Clint. "What are you talking about?" 

"Rumlow is tracking (Y/n)," Clint says without a moment's hesitation. 

Steve folds his arms over his chest and looks at the ground, his jaw tightening. For a moment, nothing makes sense. Steve had been with you every step of the way the night of the mission. No one besides himself laid a hand on you unless he was too busy dancing with you to notice. How could anyone have placed a tracker on you? 

And suddenly it dawns on him. Steve's heart sinks into his stomach, his eyes instinctively finding Natasha. He closes his eyes as dread washes over him and hangs his head as he let's out a deep breath.

Sam soon understands too and looks at the others as realization sinks in. "You don't think..."

Natasha nods, cutting him off before he says anything more. Clint looks between them warily, unsure of why everyone else has suddenly gone quiet when they should be discussing how Rumlow managed to track you. "You don't think what?" He asks suspiciously. "Why are you all so quiet, we should be figuring this out-" When Steve looks back at him, Clint finds himself falling silent. Steve's eyes aren't only filled with worry. Guilt gleams in his eyes as well. 

Finally managing to put the pieces together, Clint presses his lips together tightly and takes a step back. "No," He says at first, not believing his own thoughts. "No, you didn't. God- please tell me you  _didn't_."

"We weren't sure whether or not we should-" Natasha begins to explain quietly. 

_"You put a tracker on her?"_

"They sealed it in her bullet wound," Sam confesses, unable to tear his eyes away from the floor.

Clint looks at Steve sharply, his eyes blazing with fury. "It's  _inside_  her?"

Steve averts his gaze but Natasha is more than happy to respond. "Rumlow is doing everything in his power to get to her, Clint. We figured if- if he did succeed, we'd be able to find her."

"You mean find Rumlow," Clint says venomously as he steps closer. "You didn't do this for her own safety. You did this so you could find Rumlow. If you cared for her at all- if you would think of her as more than just a piece in this twisted game of trust and betrayal- you would have  _never_  put that tracker device in her."

Steve winces at Clint's words and forces himself to look him in the eye. Clint's expression is not one of fury. His anger has faded into worry and Clint's eyes are soft. He is angry, but he's more disappointed than anything. 

"She was right. She's not the bad guy," Clint murmurs, looking at each one of them. "You are."

Without another word, Clint pushes past Steve and marches off towards the elevator, desperate to leave the room. Natasha let's out a heavy sigh and turns toward the bar, crossing her arms as she rests them on the counter. Sam silently picks up the open folder, his eyes still following Clint's retreating form. When he disappears, Sam brings his attention back to the picture. "Clint's right. We shouldn't have put that tracker on her." He mutters. "Even if our intentions were good."

"Whether or not we made the right decision, we need to keep the tracker in," Natasha speaks up.

"And let Rumlow close in on her?" Steve says, turning his attention to her. "Not long after we sealed that tracker in her wound, HYDRA managed to tap in. It was like they were waiting for it to happen. HYDRA has been one step ahead of us from the beginning of this mission. We need to think about the big picture for a moment."

"The big picture is (Y/n)," Natasha presses on.

Steve closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose gently. "Maybe we should...talk about this later."

"With (Y/n)," Sam adds. "She's a part of this team. It's not fair to be keeping all this from her. We just earned her trust and then we went and screwed it over. How is she going to trust us after this?"

"Then we don't tell her. The last thing we need is more lack of trust," Natasha sighs. 

"Clint is going to tell her if he hasn't already," Steve states quietly. 

"Does he know about the Raft?" Sam asks, raising his head to look at Steve. 

Steve shakes his head. "No. He doesn't need to either. The way things are looking we won't need that cell."

"So we're really going to keep more secrets?" 

"At least until we get closure for the team."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Still alive. I hope you all are doing well! :)


	22. From The Sky To The Ground

It was nearly two in the morning when Clint called you, his voice low and rough as if he hadn't slept in weeks. You and Bucky had been in the middle of watching the third 'The Lord of the Rings' movie but you managed to hear your phone ringing over the sound of swords clashing and talked with him for a solid ten minutes before hanging up. 

You don't know why he had the sudden urge to come over and see you but you were more than happy to make the time to see him. Now you stand with curious thoughts, watching for him through the window of your apartment. 

Bucky is out for his usual morning run and you have lit a candle in the window before you. If Bucky returns and the candle is still lit in the window, he will know you have company and occupy himself until you give him a call. If the candle is out, it's safe for him to come home. Sadly, by tomorrow, you will have moved out of your lovely apartment. 

The rain has passed but the temperatures have not changed. It's only going to get colder from here on out. 

A heavy knock at your door sounds through the still, quiet apartment, sending a ripple of eagerness through your body. Memories of last night are fresh in your mind. Since Steve left the apartment you've been filled with hope and warmth for your future with him- well not with him- but with the team. You can't wait to share your thoughts with Clint. 

Wearing nothing more than a pair of black leggings and a white, oversized long sleeve shirt, you hurry to answer the door. Your hand meets the knob and you turn it swiftly, opening the door slowly. 

Your bright eyes meet Clint's, but his lack warmth and life. You look at him worriedly. "Clint?"

His grip tightens on the folders in his hand and you glance at them curiously, wondering if they have anything to do with an upcoming mission. More hope sprouts up inside you. It's possible he and the others could have found another lead. Maybe Clint's mission went better than he expected it to and he even found information on Rumlow. 

You open the door wider to let Clint in, wondering why he hasn't spoken a word to you yet. He's usually more talkative than you. Clint steps inside slowly and glances around your apartment as he holds out the files for you to take. 

"It seems different in here," He says, smiling slightly as he welcomes the warm feeling of the apartment. 

"I don't know why it would," You reply to his comment as you step towards the kitchen and set the folders down on the counter. "Besides the new candles I bought it hasn't changed since the last time you were here."

"I mean, it just seems...warmer- happier."

You cast Clint a small smile as you turn back to face him. "You think so?"

Catching your smile and the sparkle in your eyes, Clint takes a deep breath and then nods. He has never seen you smile over something so trivial before. He used to think it was a miracle to see you smile because it was so rare, but now it seems you smile because of the simplest things. Clint would give anything to see you like this all the time. It's clear that you're beginning to change for the better. He can tell your negative thinking and mindset is starting to fade. 

Seeing you in such a good mood causes Clint's thoughts about the files to wander away and he leans against the back of the couch as he looks at you proudly. "You're different too," he states.

At this, you cross your arms and look to the ground humbly. "Everyday I get better."

It's true. You've finally managed to accept the fact that you are not your past, your thoughts, or what people say you are. You've managed to forget about yesterday and look forward to tomorrow. The time you've spent with the team the past few weeks have been unimaginable: a reality better than dreams. Months ago you would have never believed that someone wanted you to stay. That you had a place or purpose in life. Now it has become a bit more believable. 

You used to believe that the only way to prevent pain was to stay away from others. You didn't feel like you deserved a place amongst them or even the chance to make things right. For so many years you lived without hope, love, and support. Now, you feel like you just might have it all, and more. It couldn't possibly hurt to let someone in for once. 

The team has given you a chance to be one of them and you're going to prove to them that you are  _worth it._

"Did you just stop by drop off these files or do you want to stay for a while?" You ask quietly. 

"I'm going to stay for a while," He says, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "There's...something I need to tell you."

You look at him for a moment longer, your worry growing when you notice the mixture of negative emotions in his eyes. He doesn't look good. And you have a feeling what he's going to talk to you about isn't going to be good either. 

"Your mission," You begin to ask. "Did something go wrong?"

Clint shakes his head. "The mission went fine. We just...found more than we were looking for." 

Your eyebrows furrow gently and the light aura around you falls dark and heavy. Something is definitely wrong. Clint's voice is low and full of dread. Your eyes break away from his gaze and you glance at the ground. Before you go on, you traverse into the kitchen and pull down two mugs. "I'm guessing those files have something to do with it." You say. 

Clint doesn't reply, confirming your guess. You're prepared for whatever the files contain. 

After you pour two mugs of coffee and hand one off to Clint, you stand in front of him, mug in hand, and look at him seriously. "You're not usually this quiet," You tell him, hiding all of your concern behind a facade. 

His eyes remain on the coffee in his hands for a moment before he glances over at the folders that sit on the counter. You catch his gaze and look back at them. You share one single look with him before you set down your mug and pick up one of the many folders. Clint's eyes immediately fall to the ground when you open it up. 

The world around you disappears as your eyes focus in on one single picture. The words and printed papers beside it mean nothing to you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words follow through with your thoughts. 

An array of memories flash through your mind, like puzzle pieces that you had lost that are now filling in the empty spaces. The picture of your sixteen-year-old self, kneeling in the grass while you pet your old dog, Apollo, in front of your old blue house strikes you with pain. The memory is fuzzy, but you understand the picture. You had a life before HYDRA. You may not remember it, but you did. You had a family- even a dog- and a normal life. 

You quietly flip through the pages within the folder. Slowly, your memories gather, but the puzzle is unclear. It's a skewed and faint image, one you can barely hold in your mind. You want to remember, but at the same time, you don't.

Closing the folder, you look up and meet Clint's eyes, realizing why he has come to visit. He and Natasha found file after file on you at the San Francisco base. And if what you're thinking is true, they found something bad. You had hoped your past would buried well enough for it not to screw with your future, but you're beginning to believe that hope is useless. 

"I didn't know this file existed," You say quietly as you set it back on the counter. 

Clint's solemn expression doesn't change. "There's more."

You're beginning to grow anxious. The next folder you pick up is thick and black. When you hold it in your hands, you feel a heaviness upon you before you even open it. When you finally pull back the cover and peer down at the contents, the heaviness only grows. The room around you grows dark and silent. 

Immediately you wonder if Steve has already seen it. 

You close the folder without reading or looking at the pictures for more than a few seconds. Your heart is beating quick. They know about your relationship with Bucky. They know you lied about only working with him on the sidelines. And Steve- God, Steve probably hates you for keeping all of this from him. All he wanted was information on his best friend. 

"Has Steve-"

"Yes, he knows," Clint answers your question before you speak it. 

You turn your back on Clint and drop the folder down on the counter. Is Clint here on behalf of Steve? Is Clint going to try and convince you to help Steve look for Bucky? But why would Clint come and not Steve?

A darker thought intrudes your mind. Maybe they don't want you on the team anymore. 

"You never told me about Bucky," Clint says suddenly. 

"You know why I didn't," You reply as you turn back around. "Whether you admit it or not, your loyalty is to Steve and the others first. You would have turned me into Steve or Fury. I never told you because I knew you would want me to help you guys look for Bucky. And my loyalty will always be to him first. I promised him I wouldn't look for him. He didn't want to be found, Clint, and he still doesn't. I had good reasons for lying to all of you."

Clint doesn't break your gaze. Nor does he say anything. He knows you're right but he wants to argue. Only he can't argue because everything you have said so far is true. His loyalty will always be to the team before it is to you. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care about you. In fact, he's dreading the day when he will have to choose between you and the team. 

"What do you want, Clint?" You ask bitterly. 

You had been so high in the sky today you forgot how low it feels being brought back to the ground. 

The warm, light feeling of the apartment is long gone. Even with the fireplace lit and the warm glow of the candles surrounding you, you feel cold. The atmosphere is stiff and you find it hard to meet eyes with Clint. 

"I'm not here to talk about Bucky. I'm not here to bring up your past either," Clint sighs. "I'm here because I care about you. My loyalty may always be with the team but I will never disregard you for them. I care more about you than myself and I don't want you thinking- even for a second- that you don't mean anything to me." 

"Then why did you bring over all of these files? It's clear you and the team had a discussion about them. Why else would you be here if you don't want my help looking for Bucky or to throw me out?"

"Throw you out?" Clint's expression changes drastically, his eyebrows furrowing. "What are you talking about?"

 

You stay quiet. Clint's confusion doesn't fade but he doesn't stay on the topic for too long. His expression soon softens and he sighs once more. Moving from his place against the couch he reaches for one of the folders behind you and looks at you with all seriousness. "I'm here because of this." He states in a low voice. 

He extends his arm and holds the folder out in front of you, his eyes flooded with concern. You don't hesitate to take the folder despite the fear that is growing inside you. What is in this folder?

You aren't expecting to find a picture of you walking home from the tower when you open up the folder. Unable to understand or process what is in front of you, you glance up at Clint. He takes a step towards you. "Just...look over it first," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "Then I'll...tell you what I need to." His eyes find the floor. 

Looking back down at the file, your hands grip tighter on the folder. Your eyes scan fearfully over the picture and then the documents next to it. It holds all the current information HYDRA has on you. Where you live, who you're associated with, and HYDRA evaluation on you based on each time they've encountered you during your missions with the team. But none of these things scare you. What worries you the most is knowing this file exists; knowing that HYDRA is tracking you. 

"This is impossible," You say at first, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "I knew they had managed to find my location but I didn't think they had been tracking me. There's no way they could have a tracker on me."

Clint's eyes widen slightly. "You knew that HYDRA has been following you?"

You ignore Clint's question and think back to the day you were attacked near your apartment. "The HYDRA agents that attacked me that day must have followed me home from the tower," You mutter quietly to yourself as you fold one arm and rest the other on it, running your thumb over your lip in thought. "They must have snapped that picture."

"Someone attacked you?" Clint begins to raise his voice. "What the hell, (Y/n)? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"They must have been the ones who collected that information on me. They're dead now, which explains why there's nothing else up-to-date in this file." You continue on as if you didn't hear him. 

"That's why you decided to move apartments, isn't it?" Clint asks abruptly. 

You bring yourself to look at him finally. He looks hurt that you kept him in the dark but you know he had bigger, more important things to worry about at the time. "Yes," You answer his question honestly. 

Clint's expression changes to one of worry and concern to one of frustration. He raises his arm and pinches the bridge of his nose to calm himself. "None of this would have happened if they had just listened to me..."

This catches your attention. You set the folder down and look at him closely. "What're you talking about?"

Clint holds his hand over his lips for a moment before letting it fall back into place, both arms folded over his chest. The sad glint in his eyes returns. "Natasha sealed a tracker in your bullet wound. I told them time and time again that they just needed to give you a chance. If they really trusted you, they would have never put that tracker on you..."

Your heart drops. 

Instinctively, you place a hand over your chest, right above the scar that is taking form where the bullet struck you.

After everything- _everything_ \- that you've done to prove your worth. It's still not enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for not updating in so long. I will say I just got caught in life and reality for a while. Between spending time with my boyfriend, handling school, and dealing with the recent death of my mother. (She passed away on April 2)
> 
> It took a lot to inspire me to continue writing again but here I am!
> 
> A short chapter to get back into the swing of things!


	23. What Could Have Been

Betrayal strikes you like a second bullet. 

Your surroundings fade and the apartment grows cold and dark. Your eyes remain fixed on Clint's. His dull blue eyes hide nothing. He feels anguish and regret. This is the last thing he wanted. There's no way he knew about the tracker. 

Your hand grips the fabric of your shirt lightly without your notice. "It's inside me?" 

Clint's eyes focus on the floor. "Before Natasha sealed your wound, she and the others had a discussion about the tracker. It was her idea, but they agreed it would be a good thing to do. Tony gave in to it and placed it in the wound..."

Tony's warm and charming smile appears in your mind. Maybe that's why he was being so nice to you when you met him. He felt guilty but didn't want to raise any awareness that something was wrong. His face fades from your mind and someone else's replaces it. Bucky. Bucky is in danger- more danger than you could ever be in. 

Suddenly, you reach down and pick up the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off. "We need to get this thing out of me now."

Clint moves forward quickly before you can take it off and stops your hands. He looks up at you, surprised you were so willing to act so soon. "We can't do that here," He tells you abruptly. "You could die."

"I could have died last night," You say sharply, "Or the very moment I left the tower. My life has been in danger from the very moment they made the decision to seal that tracker inside me. Why does that suddenly matter now?"

You pull your hands away from Clint, unable to control your fear, worry, and anger at all once. You know it's not his fault. But you also wonder why he didn't tell you the very moment he found out. What if you  _had_  died? Or worse: what if HYDRA had managed to get a hold of you? If you fell into the hands of HYDRA at this point, your life wouldn't be the only one in danger. The team would be in danger too. You hold information about the Avengers that HYDRA might want. 

And Bucky.  _Jesus._  What about Bucky? What if HYDRA found Bucky while they were looking for you?

Your mind becomes unbalanced with all your thoughts and emotions. You turn away from Clint and stare out the windows of your apartment, seeking something beyond these walls that might help you free your mind. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," You hear Clint behind you. "I wanted to. But I wasn't handling things well with the team. We argued for hours after I found out about these files. I wasn't even sure what to say to you."

You move your arms and wrap them around yourself, seeking comfort in your own arms. You find none however and remain stiff and silent in your place before the windows. Clint becomes desperate and takes a step towards you, his voice growing soft. "You were so happy, (Y/n). I wanted to wait...I didn't want to tear everything good down."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "You haven't done anything wrong, Clint."

"We can fix this..." He says hopefully. "We can fix everything. Come with me to the tower-"

"I think you should leave, Clint."

A silence falls over you. Your focus shifts from the sun rising above the city as the dawn breaks to Clint's faint reflection in the glass window. Like you, he has become still. You turn around slowly and look at him with pain in your eyes. 

"I think you should leave." You say again. "Go back to the tower. I'll be there once I finish reading these files."

Clint takes a step forward, his hand just barely moving at his side as if to reach out, but he stops and falls back. He opens his mouth to say something and closes it when nothing comes out. And all he can do is stare at you. Clint knows by the look in your eyes that you feel nothing in this moment. Even though he wants to stay, he knows he should go. 

"Everything's going to be okay," Clint says finally, forcing himself to smile at you. "I'll see you soon."

His smile falls slowly as he continues to look at you. You know why his gaze lingers so long. Why his hands are clenched at his sides, to keep them from trying to reach you again. Things are not the same between you and Clint anymore. Not since he gave you a push to leave his farm. He thought you'd be better off by yourself in living your second chance at life once you escaped HYDRA. But instead, you grew worse. Because you were by yourself. Because it was isolation. 

Clint could have let you stay. He could have helped you become a hero, like him. Maybe he would have even suggested you become a part of the team; an Avenger. You could have been safe and tucked away from HYDRA. 

But that's not what happened. Instead, you were left alone, without guidance. HYDRA was all you knew and you threw that knowledge away, leaving you with nothing. How do you build something out of nothing? How were you supposed to live a life with nothing to go off of? You have no place in this world. Without HYDRA, you are nothing. 

But it's better to be nothing than to be a part of HYDRA. 

Clint leaves silently and without another word. You watch the door close behind him bitterly, wondering how things went wrong for you so quickly. You pull your attention away from the door and look up at the candle in the window upstairs. Bucky will most likely be back within an hour since he usually only leaves for an hour but you know you have to call him. You pick your phone up off the counter by the files and make your way upstairs as you dial his number. 

You open the window swiftly with one hand and then stand back, biting your lip as the phone rings. A small gust of wind blows in through the open space and blows the candle out before you can yourself. 

 _"Why are you calling? Is something wrong?"_ You hear Bucky's voice immediately when picks up. 

"Hey," You say quietly, eyeing the city from the window. "Are you close?"

_"Yeah, I was on my way to that gym you told me about. I'll come home."_

The word home falls from his lips and you close your eyes as your chest tightens. He's coming home. To the cold, brick apartment. He considers living with you in a cold apartment eating takeout food home. 

"Don't come home," You breathe out, running a hand through your hair. "Go to the new apartment."

Bucky's voice grows low and urgent.  _"What's going on? Did someone show up at the apartment?"_

"No, it was just, Clint, like I told you."

_"This...has something to do with them?"_

"Please," Your voice breaks with the quiet plea. "Just go to the new apartment. I'll be over there in a few minutes."

You hang up before he can ask or say anything else. Your arm falls to your side and you grip your phone tightly. It's only when another breeze from the window enters and you feel something wet on your cheek. 

Your eyebrows furrow together gently and you reach up with your free hand to touch your cheek. As you gaze down at your hand you stare at the tiny droplet of water on your fingertips, running into your palm until it's gone. Two more droplets fall into your hand and your chest tightens with so much pain you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut. Your lips quiver as you press them together, refusing to let yourself cry. You never wanted any of this to happen. 

You open your eyes and try to even out your breathing. You hold a hand over your chest and begin to walk away from the window. On the dresser with the mirror that holds your clothes, you pick up Bucky's journal which you've helped him fill with information on his past. _I don't have to do this,_ your thoughts suddenly stop you from moving. 

_I can get rid of the tracker. I can make sure Bucky is safe and I won't send him away._

The journal lands on your bed as you toss it aside. Your tears stop flowing but your vision is still blurred, your mind in absolute chaos. You feel too many emotions at once but at the same time, you feel nothing. 

_I don't want to be alone again._

Your feet move without your accord. Your body moves on its own, your mind elsewhere. Down the stairs you go, gripping the files tightly in your hand before throwing them carelessly into the fire burning in the fireplace. The flames grow and gasp, consuming the new fuel. You turn and leave as quick as you had come, heading for the laundry room.

_I'm scared to be alone._

You throw the dryer door open and pull all of Bucky's clothes that you washed last night. They're a little wrinkled but they smell fresh and like vanilla, due to the scent sheets Bucky picked out at the store with you. Your feet carry you up the stairs and you find yourself on your knees on the side of the bed. You quickly pull out a black bag, the one Bucky had with him the night he showed up at your apartment. As neat as you can, you cram the clothes in the bag. 

You look up and grab Bucky's journal, laying it with his clothes. Then, you move back towards the dresser and open the very bottom drawer on the right. In it is multiple envelopes that hold cash you earned earlier on before you met the team.

Most of the money was earned from being a hitman. Others are older, from when Rumlow paid you for working dirty jobs that he didn't want to. You never spent any of the money you earned from Rumlow because- well- you had no life outside of HYDRA. You lived in a HYDRA base. And when you didn't, you stayed in motels for certain missions. 

Two envelopes are stashed in Bucky's bag and then it is zipped up smoothly in one movement. Finally, your mind begins to take control again and you stare sadly down at the bag on the floor in front of you. 

Bucky can't stay with you anymore. It's too risky. Both the Avengers and HYDRA are too dangerous now. 

Things could have been different, you think. If you had ignored Clint's request you wouldn't have been involved with the heroes; who aren't that different from the villains when it comes down to trust and betrayal. You could have been living alone, until Bucky came along. And then maybe- just maybe- Bucky could stay. 

Or you could have let Steve die. Then you wouldn't have gotten shot. There would be no tracker. You wouldn't have stayed for breakfast and bonded with the team like you knew you shouldn't have. 

But you were happy weren't you..?

You were happy with the team. And you were happy with Steve. Weren't you? Or was everything a lie from the beginning?

You are a criminal. You are no hero. You were never really a part of the team. You're just their pawn- their only key to destroying HYDRA. You knew they would never trust you but you were stupid and believed them anyway. Now look where your foolish hope has gotten you. You're vulnerable to HYDRA. Bucky is leaving. And you have no one and nothing left. 

_You are already alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, summer has begun. I can officially dedicate my time to this story and update as I please. New update coming soon. I'll try and post every Sunday again.
> 
> I always read the comments and I'm glad you guys enjoy following along with this story. I have nothing but love for you <3 I hope everyone is doing amazing!!


	24. Goodbye

Bucky turns around stiffly, his eyes alert as he watches the door to the empty apartment open. The air is dry and the wind blows against the windows outside the room. At first, his expression softens as his concern fades when he sees you, but when you push the door open further and reveal a black bag in the other hand, his face hardens. 

You step into the room slowly, your eyes focused solely on Bucky. You tighten your grip on the bag and shut the door before dropping the bag at your feet gently. You're trying your best to keep your expression calm. 

The apartment is plain and boring. It doesn't have stairs. It is a simple space with a small kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and two small bedrooms. The laundry room is downstairs. It smells weird and doesn't get a lot of light because it only has two windows but it's further from the tower and a more hidden location. 

Bucky doesn't move in his place, standing in the middle of the apartment with his hands in a fist at each side. The silence helps you hold everything together but you know Bucky is bound to say something eventually. He hates the silence more than you do. Simply because he was one to always have to keep it. You swallow thickly and begin to speak. 

"Clint came by and dropped off some files..."

Bucky remains quiet but he takes a couple steps forward to hear you better. 

"Clint and Natasha took down the San Francisco HYDRA base. That's where they got files on me. Since HYDRA found my location again they dug up old files about me and created new ones as well. That also means they found files and pictures with you and me." You watch him closely as you speak but still, he doesn't move.

Your eyes find the floor. "After I got shot and the team took me home, Natasha brought up the idea that they should place a tracker in my wound." You glance up to see Bucky's reaction and then look away again. "HYDRA tapped into their system and have my location. Since you killed the three men who had the information on me, they don't know about you. But they could. Rumlow might have sent more spies. And the team- they'll want me to help them look for you now."

Your eyes begin to tear up again and you hate yourself for letting them. Why are you crying? This isn't your fault. You never wanted the team to betray you. You didn't know HYDRA would get so close to you. 

But is it your fault that Bucky's life is in danger?

"I should have let you leave," You say softly, your throat tightening with guilt. 

Bucky finally moves towards you. "It was my choice to stay," He tells you. "I wanted to stay."

You shake your head slowly and smile sadly at him. "You never wanted to stay. You wanted to run. I know you, Bucky. You never wanted to put my life in danger to harbor yours."

"It was worth the risk, (Y/n)."

You look up at him helplessly. "Leave the country. Get as far away as possible. Europe, maybe."

"What about you?" Bucky asks, looking back down at you with compassionate eyes. "What are you going to do?"

You stare at him as your eyes that fill with more tears. You weren't prepared for that question.  _What are you going to do?_ There aren't a lot of options for you. Whether you like it or not, you're going to continue working with the team to destroy HYDRA. You can't do it alone; and if you parted ways with the team, you don't know what would happen.

What would they do to you if you decided to leave? Would Steve find a way to track you down and force you to help them again? Or would they have the rights to throw you in a cell somewhere for your past crimes?

"I'm going to help Steve and the others take down HYDRA," You say finally, taking a deep breath as you calm your emotions down. "I'm going to finish the mission. But once it's over, I'm taking my leave. I don't know what they have planned for me...but I'm not going to let them lock me up after I get done helping them "save the world"."

Bucky's eyes soften. "Do you know why they put that tracker on you?" He asks quietly. 

You cross your arms and shake your head. "I don't know. I didn't ask Clint either. But I'm going to the tower to get it out of me, and to get answers. I do know that Natasha has had the idea that I'm a mole for HYDRA."

"Maybe she wanted to track your movements to make sure you weren't."

"Or maybe they wanted to use me as bait for HYDRA. I'll just have to find out."

You shuffle your feet and fix your gaze on the floor, knowing you should begin to make your way to the tower, but not wanting to leave Bucky. Sensing your idleness, Bucky steps closer and wraps his arms around you unexpectedly. You stiffen at the sudden contact, having not felt closeness like this in so long. Bucky's warmth engulfs you with his embrace and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly as you give in and snake your arms around his waist. 

Even when Bucky's grip loosens, yours remains tight, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. The last time you said goodbye, Bucky left without a trace. You were left with an emptiness. But this time, this goodbye doesn't feel so bad. 

"I'll find you again," He murmurs, resting his chin on the top of your head. "I promise."

"I know you will," You whisper, opening your eyes and staring vacantly at the floor. 

You aren't worried that Bucky will find you. He has before and he can do it again. You just hope that when he does, you won't be in a cell. And most of all, you hope, that you will be alive to even see him again. 

"I made you a promise too, Bucky. I won't rest until HYDRA is destroyed. I won't stop until you're free."

You pull away from Bucky and look up at him for what will be the last time. Only in this very moment, you don't know that it will be the last time you look at him. But you will remember this moment in the future- and you will wish you would have looked at him longer. Instead, you turn away and open the door, leaving your truest friend behind. 

The moment you close the door, you feel as if Bucky is already thousands of miles away. You don't stand for long on the other side of his door, but you linger before you begin to take the stairs down to exit the apartment out the entrance. It's as if your body is moving on its own again because your mind is still with Bucky in the dreary apartment room. 

As you walk along the street for a time, staring blankly at the world around you, all of your emotions lay to rest. Bucky may have left again but left the right way: with a goodbye. Your loss of Bucky isn't permanent. And you truly believe that. He's going to be safe now. Far away from HYDRA's reach. And you know you are the opposite; you are so close to HYDRA's grasp you could fall into their hands at any time. They have your location now. 

And most importantly, you will know the greatest truth of all when you arrive at the tower. 

You will learn where you stand with the heroes. 

After waving down a cab effortlessly and seating yourself in the back, your thoughts begin to conspire against your emotions. Sad thoughts, like "I am nothing without the team" twist into spiteful thoughts, like "They are nothing without me".

And it's in the back of the cab where you sit, watching the cold city beyond the window, that your mind builds its walls once again. This time thicker and stronger. You got too close to the people you knew you shouldn't have. But they have gotten to close to you too. And for a moment- one fleeting moment- you think of the power you could have. The team can not destroy HYDRA without you. You are their strongest weapon, which could be leverage for you.

But those bitter, spiteful thoughts fade away until your mind is quiet again. And emptiness fills it instead. 

When you reach the tower, you step slowly out of the cab after handing the driver money. The tower looks duller than usual, standing stiffly against the grey sky. You had once marveled at it every chance you got but now it just seems like any other tower built in the city. The autumn wind nips at you as you walk towards the front entrance. 

 **"Recognized-"** J.A.R.V.I.S.' familiar voice greets you as the door opens.  **"Miss (Y/n). It is good to see you again."**

"You always say that, J.A.R.V.I.S.," You say bluntly in response. When you step inside the door seals shut and locks accordingly. Warm air surrounds you on all sides. Happy isn't behind the counter today.

 **"And it always good to see you,"** J.A.R.V.I.S. replies. 

"You are the only one who thinks so. And you're an AI. So forgive me if I don't hold your opinion too highly."

**"I do forgive you but I must argue. Mr. Stark is quite fond of you. So are Dr. Banner and the Captain. Clint especially. And I've heard good things about you from Sam-"**

"Just take me up, J.A.R.V.I.S.," You murmur bitterly as you step into the elevator. 

**"Of course, Miss (Y/n). The others have been waiting for you in the shared lab."**

"Tell them I'm on my way."

The elevator doors close with a hiss and immediately you begin the journey up. It's been a long time since you've been to the tower. The closer you feel yourself getting to the main floor, the more butterflies you feel in your stomach. And not the good kind of the butterflies. When the elevator finally stops and the doors open, you feel a dread in your heart. 

Step by step you walk out onto the main floor, your eyes immediately finding the living area where you played Monopoly with the team. The memory brings a warmth to you, and the colors in the room are bright. But the memory quickly crumbles and the colors and warmth fade away. Your eyes find the stairs and you walk to them aimlessly, as if there is no rhyme or reason in your steps. But with each stair you descend, you can feel the tension of what is waiting for you. 

It feels as if it's your first day with the team again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get some longer chapters in since the last have been kinda short. I'm going on vacation for three weeks and hopefully I'll find time to update :\
> 
> My name is Jocelyn by the way. Jocelyn Smith.   
> Just to give you a little something to know about me. It's weird to think you guys read my writing and don't even know my name, hahah


	25. Starting Again

When you appear at the bottom of the stairs and step out warily into the open room, you immediately catch the teams attention. Natasha becomes still inside the infirmary, watching you through the glass windows as she stops messing with the supplies on the counter. Clint, in the doorway of the infirmary, stands straight and watches you come to them. 

Tony sits on one of the many lab desks, holding a holographic ball that he had been playing catch with. He exchanges a look with Bruce, who sits at the desk, and then with Steve, who stands next to him. 

As you walk past him, Steve turns and moves to reach out to you, but Bruce catches his arm before he can touch you. Steve looks back at him briefly and Bruce shakes his head, warning him silently that touching you is not a good idea. You stand in front of Clint and hold out your hand, returning the folders he gave you back to him. 

"I read all the files," You speak loudly with the intent for everyone to hear. "Including the one HYDRA has recently made that holds information about me and my current location." You turn around and eye Bruce and Tony

Bruce looks at the floor, fumbling with a pen in his hand, but Tony looks at you directly. He offers you nothing but full transparency. He hides nothing from you. The look in his eyes shows regret and the expression he wears is one of determination. What he is determined to tell you, you aren't sure yet. 

"And I know you guys read these files too. So I'm going to come absolutely clean with you now," You begin again. "It's true that I worked alongside the Winter Soldier. And it's true that we were...more than partners."

Steve's eyes fix on you, his eyebrows furrowing. You catch his gaze, knowing he's thinking something different than what you are about to tell him. "Bucky was my friend," You say finally. "And we escaped HYDRA together."

Relief or understanding, you don't know which, flash through Steve's eyes as he focuses on the floor. 

"You escaped the day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell," Natasha clarifies as she steps out of the infirmary and into the open lab. "Where did you two go? How long did you stay together and where did you last see him?"

"We didn't leave the city," You answer slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. "For a while, maybe a couple weeks, we were in and out of motels. We never felt safe staying in one place. And then, after a few weeks, Bucky left."

"What do you mean he left? He just disappeared?" Bruce asks in a quiet voice. 

You nod solemnly. The memory is still burned into your mind. You had come back from a job late one night and found Bucky had left the motel you two had been staying it. Without warning, without a goodbye. But if he had, you would not have let him leave. You would have tried to convince him to stay and of course, he would have given in. 

"Do you have any idea where he might be now?" Steve clears his throat. His voice no longer sounds warm or familiar. You almost can't bring yourself to look at him, but you do, and your gaze is far colder than you mean it to be. 

"I promised Bucky I wouldn't go looking for him. So if you want me to help you find him, I'm sorry. But I won't."

"We don't blame you after everything we've done," Natasha says, attempting to catch your eye as she stands before you. 

There is sincerity in her voice that makes your gaze soften, but you feel no less bitter. "Forget it. I just want to get the tracker you put inside me out. We can talk about this more later."

Tony pushes himself off the lab desk and shoves his hands into his pants pockets. "We can't just yet."

You look at him blankly as if you didn't hear him quite right. "What?"

"We can't take the tracker out yet. Sam is with the doctor and they're not here yet. When you were shot we looked at the wound to make sure it was something to do ourselves." He explains. 

Bruce continues to go off of what he said, setting his pen down. "It was a minor gunshot wound. Since the sniper was aiming for Steve, the aim was higher up. If it had hit Steve, it would have hit his heart directly. Since you stepped in the way, it hit your chest, but because of your height difference and the change in position, it hit closer to the right of your chest."

"So it missed your heart," Tony concludes as he leans against the desk. "It missed your lung too but just barely. Your rib had been hit well enough to break and a piece ended up hitting an artery. When we realized that it was out of our control, we called a friend of Sam's and had him get down here as soon as possible."

You nod thoughtfully as you take in this new information. "I thought you said Natasha was the one that patched me up?"

"I did," Natasha confirms, "After the doc was finished we made the decision to put the tracker in. He placed it inside you for us and left me to finish patching you up. I made sure nothing went wrong after he placed it."

You breathe in slowly through your nose and sigh as you shove your hands in the pockets of your jacket. So you'll have to stay conscious to face the team after all. You figured as soon as you got here you'd be ready to go, unconscious on the bed while they removed it. Once it was removed, you had hoped to talk to them. You didn't realize you would have to be facing them so soon. Maybe it's better this way. You have a lot on your mind and questions that need answering. 

Natasha returns to the infirmary with Bruce and the two of them continue to get supplies ready. Tony begins to throw the holographic ball around again but his eyes are focused on Steve. You pay no mind to the soft-eyed hero even as you feel his gaze following you. You turn towards Tony and he raises his eyebrows to show you have his attention. 

"Did you build the tracker?" You ask, knowing he must have instead of using someone else's product.

 "I did," Tony says proudly, but his eyes are still heavy with guilt. He may be proud of the tracker but he is not proud of what he did with it. "It's small and is currently attached to your rib. I was worried there would be bad side effects from having something inside you that's not supposed to be there but nothing seems to be wrong."

"Did you figure out how HYDRA managed to interfere?"

At this, Tony swallows thickly. All pride fades and he crushes the holographic ball in his hands. It disappears in a fizzle of pixel lights and Tony's hands fall, retreating into his pockets once more. "No," he says finally. 

"It's impossible to get ahead of them," Bruce sighs. He takes his glasses off and begins to rub his eyes. 

"No, it's not," Natasha tramples his doubt. "It's no mystery how they've managed to get ahead of us so much. We've been underestimating HYDRA. We were ahead of them in the beginning. It was only until they realized (Y/n) was working with us that they saw our weakness. (Y/n) is not the problem. Our lack of trust is."

Your eyes fix on Natasha almost immediately. This is the first time you've heard her defend you instead of being the one to put a target on your back. What she's saying makes sense and triggers a faint memory in your mind. 

The supplier you brought back to the tower after your second mission had been aware of the mistrust.

 _"They say silence can speak more than words. And in this case, your silence says more than enough. For a team of friends you guys really do not get along."_ He had looked at you mischievously.  _"And now I see why you do not get along."_

Natasha is right. Anyone could tell the team was barely holding together. There was no trust. 

You swallow and look at the ground, wrapping your arms around you as you try to keep the cold stone look on your face. There was some trust. One-sided trust. No matter how stubborn you are, you can't deny that you trusted them. You hate yourself for ever believing that they accepted you, good and bad. They may have betrayed you but you let them get close enough to do the damage. Your only concern right now is the mission. You want to finish the mission. 

"HYDRA only got ahead of us because we became weak and predictable. If we're going to finish this mission," Steve speaks up suddenly, "We are going to have to trust each other. If we don't, we'll be stuck fighting each other when we should be fighting HYDRA." Steve's eyes fall on you but you still refuse to meet his gaze. "Give us another chance, (Y/n)."

"It was my idea to place the tracker inside your wound," Natasha confesses, her voice laced with true sincerity. "I did what I thought was right for the team. Things weren't adding up and the only explanation that seemed reasonable was that you were leaking information about us to Rumlow. I had to be sure. I was desperate after our last mission. We didn't have any other leads and I was hoping we'd find something- anything- about Rumlow."

"I understand," You say cooly, regarding her with nothing more than a cold glace. "You did what you thought was best for the team. And that wasn't wrong. I just would have thought the team included me too."

You turn away from everyone and walk into the infirmary. You're not mad at any of them. Clint least of all. They had good intentions. Not a single one of them has bad intentions. Natasha has definitely been cold to you and caused most of your problems with the team but she has always had the team's safety in her mind. Just like Steve. 

The supplier had been right about everything. 

_"HYDRA is more alive now than ever."_

_"As long as HYDRA is alive, (Y/n) will always be one of us. HYDRA is in her blood."_

_"You are nothing more than a puppet."_

As you stand in the middle of the infirmary, your back facing the door, you slide a hand over your chest and take in the gravity of everything that has happened. In a matter of hours, you have lost everything. And the worst of it all is that before all of this- you truly believed you might become an official member of the team. 

Steve is quiet and makes no sound as he enters the infirmary but you sense his presence. You glance over your shoulder at him and then look away. He is the last person you want to see right now. 

"Please," Steve pleads with you, staying no more than five feet away from you. "Give us another chance."

"Why did you do it, Steve?" You ask as you turn to face him. Your voice soundless helpless and you hate that you even bother asking. You already know the answer. He lied to you. He never trusted you. 

When you meet Steve's eyes, you find your breath caught in your throat. Seeing him is different than seeing everyone else. Seeing him with such pain filled eyes strikes you with compassion that you don't feel for the others. But at the same time, it fills you with more with more pain and hurt too. You trusted him more than anyone.

After a moment of silence, you speak again, only softer and colder. "Tell me why."

Steve swallows thickly and his lips part, just barely, but not enough for words to slip through. He stares at you, fists gently clenched, his pleading eyes tired and guilt-filled. He looks as if he wants to say something but the words just can't form. A thousand responses are running through his head but he knows none of them will justify what he has done. 

"You told me you trusted me, Steve," You say in a voice that is hushed and hopeless. Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what you're about to say. "And I realized then how badly I had wanted to hear it."

"(Y/n), please..." Steve sighs. 

"I don't want to be a part of this team," You say coldly, your voice hushed and low, but your every word sharp. "We're not friends- we're not teammates- we're not even partners. The only reason I'm here is because you needed my help with this mission. I didn't want anything from you in return then but I do now."

Steve's eyebrows furrow gently and he opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

"I want my freedom," You tell him bluntly. "No contact, no more recruits, no cells. I want to disappear."

"The other day you told me you wanted to stay," Steve says helplessly, taking a step closer. "I want you to stay."

You shake your head at him and move back away from him. "Things have changed."

Your heart is racing.  _I want you to stay._ His words echo through your mind and the longing inside you washes over you in waves. But how can you believe him? How can you believe anything he says? 

Your thoughts betray you.  _I want to stay. I can stay._

Steve reaches out to you and your body freezes. He takes your hand, stiff in his grasp, and moves closer towards you. He squeezes it gently, just as he had the moment he told you he trusted you. Your heart beats furiously within your chest and you hate how you let him get so close to you. Why are you feeling like this? What are you thinking?

Steve speaks but you don't hear a word he's saying. All you can focus on are his eyes. You stare at him, your mind and heart in turmoil. Why does he make you feel this way? Why do his words matter more than anyone else's?

Steve says your name and you feel him let go of your arm. Your eyes are locked on his. You can't move, you can't speak. Your thoughts are going wild and you want to understand- you're trying to understand why Steve affects you so much. And the more you think about it, the more you try to understand, the more lost you get. 

A loud knock on the doorframe causes you to pull away from Steve, still in a daze. You both turn and look, finding the doctor standing there with a bag. "I apologize for interrupting. Is everything ready for the removal?"

You step away from Steve and grasp the hand Steve had just held, holding it tightly. 

"Yes, everything should be ready," Steve clears his throat. 

Sam peeks over the doctor's shoulder and raises his hand in greeting as he looks at you. "Hey, (Y/n)."

You smile slightly at Sam's usual half-smile. "Hey, Sam."

"You been doing okay?" He asks. There's an uncertainty in his voice that tells you he's all caught up on everything. 

"Yeah," You say shortly before looking away. 

The doctor moves past Steve and Steve heads for the door to get out of his way. He stands by Sam and stares at you, a clear longing in his eyes. You're thankful the two of you often get interrupted by people. Otherwise, things might have gone differently. The doctor looks back at Sam and Steve. "Do you mind if I go ahead and get started?"

Sam shakes his head and Steve looks at you one last time before he steps out the door. You don't bother meeting Steve's gaze. You look at the doctor and he sets his bag down. You don't remember seeing him before but his voice sounds familiar. He's tall with short red hair and smooth stubble. His blue eyes are warm and welcoming and his clothes are nothing more than casual black slacks and a nice dark blue shirt with black shoes. 

"I'm guessing you don't remember me. My name's Micheal Down," he says with a friendly smile. 

You watch as he closes the blinds to the infirmary and you swallow gently. "How long will this take?"

"Hopefully not long. It may be a few hours."

"Is it possible for something to go wrong?"

"It is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from Florida! What a hellish vacation. The beach was very nice but I missed having the time to write. And so another chapter has arrived. 
> 
> You guys are all so precious and ilysm, i hope you know that


	26. Turmoil

Time passes but you remain unphased. You don't know how long ago the doctor left or how long you've been awake but consciousness feels closer and closer with every passing minute. No one has been down in the infirmary, or at least to your knowledge, and the blinds are still closed, making the room seem darker. 

The four dome lights that have been installed in the ceiling changed colors at least three times while you stared emotionlessly at the ceiling. First a warm yellowish color, to a cold, fading blue, and finally a bright white. 

You turn your head and look at the countertop that holds a small brown paper bag and various medical supplies. Your eyes adjust to the dimmer area of the room and when you blink your eyelids don't feel heavy like they had been before. You finally gather the strength to move your body and sit up just enough to lean back on the head of the medical bed. There's a glass of water on the counter beside the brown paper bag and two pills on a sticky note that catch your eye. 

You glance at the IV's attached to you and gently pull at the tape keeping it in place. Once you remove the tape you pull it out but don't bother to stop the blood as it trickles down your arm to your hand. You wear another one of Stark's oversized sweatshirts, only this time it's black with an arc reactor design in the center of it. 

You breathe a laugh at the fact that he wears his own merchandise and then wince in pain. You can feel more tubes and wires attached to your chest. Being a giver of zero fucks, you take off the sweatshirt at glance down at your bare chest. There's a bandage over your wound and five other pads with wires that come from the heart monitor on your bedside. You glance at the machines at your bedside and then carefully begin to get yourself out of bed. 

 **"Miss (Y/n),"** J.A.R.V.I.S.' familiar voice rings out.  **"How do you feel?"**

Although you hear his voice you ignore him and pull the heart monitor pads off of you.  

The heart monitor flatlines.  **"Miss (Y/n) it is required that you stay in bed."**

"You're bossy," You mumble as you throw your sweatshirt back on and drag your feet across the floor to the counter.

**"The captain ordered me to notify him if you woke up."**

"He's bossy too."

Reaching out, you pull the brown paper bag closer and open it. When you look inside you find two chocolate muffins inside.  _Again with the muffins_ , you think to yourself. You shake your head at Steve's gracious attempt at smoothing over your unhappiness. It works, of course, and the sight of the muffins makes your mouth water. 

You pop the pain pills into your mouth and wash them down with water. You rub your eyes in a daze and yawn as you pick up the bag of muffins. You know that Steve is most likely on his way down to see you but your thoughts remain quiet and your expression remains tired and emotionless. You hoist yourself up on the counter and lean back into the cabinets above it as you pull out one of the large muffins. "How long have I been out J.A.R.V.I.S.?" You ask. 

**"Three hours."**

You take a bite out of your muffin and talk with a mouthful. "And how long did the procedure take?"

**"No more than an hour. Dr. Down left shortly after he stitched you up."**

"Do you know where Rogers gets these muffins? They're good."

Heavy footsteps tread down the stairs and you wonder why they're approaching so quickly. Steve appears int he doorway, his wide eyes on the empty bed. They flicker to the heart monitor and then finally they land on you. He lets out a sigh of relief and his body, which had been tense, relaxes. He walks towards the bedside and turns off the heart monitor as well as the other machines. You watch him with no interest and arch an eyebrow when he looks at you. 

His eyes are scolding but his voice is soft. "You don't have to be so eager to leave."

"You didn't stuff anything else inside me while I was out, did you?" You tilt your head and eye him carefully. 

Steve walks around the bed towards you and folds his arms over his chest as he looks at you. "You know we wouldn't."

"I didn't think you would last time either."

You look away from him and back down at your muffin as you take another bite. He sighs and you can tell he senses your passive aggression clearly. You don't care what he says or does. This time you're not going to let him try and calm your fire. Steve walks towards you but you ignore him and continue happily eating your muffin. 

He leans against the counter and glances at the muffin, smiling to himself. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Well, you were right. You should have woken me up sooner," You murmur. "Did I miss lunch?"

Steve looks at the watch on his wrist. "No, not yet. It's only 11:23."

You hum and slide yourself off the counter, setting your bare feet on the floor carefully. The painkillers haven't worked their magic yet so you move stiffly and your chest aches as you go. You finish eating your muffin as you glance around for the clothes you came here in. "Where did you guys set my clothes?" You ask, turning back to look at Steve. 

"They're on the desk outside the infirmary," Steve tells you. 

"Well, it's been a pleasure," You say sarcastically as you snag the bag of muffins and head for the door. "But I'm going to take my leave and go get lunch somewhere." Steve stutters as he tries to stop you and follows after. 

"You're not even going to bother discussing everything with us?" Steve asks. 

You quickly grab the bag holding your clothes and continue making your way towards the stairs, your chest aching in protest at all the movement. "I was hoping to go over our next mission with you-"

"Lay it all on me the day of. Now leave me be. I'm tired, I'm in pain, and I want something to eat."

"So you're going to keep working with us?"

You stop halfway on the stairs and turn back to look at Steve, irritation visible in your eyes. "I am. But I am not your puppet on strings. I don't need tests or a babysitter or limitations. You're going to let me do my thing."

Steve's eyes soften and he climbs the stairs to reach you. "You were never a puppet-"

You give him a hard look that stops him from getting close to you. "You're not my hand to hold, Rogers. Don't touch me."

"Look, I know everything has gone to hell but that doesn't mean we don't care about you," Steve says quietly. His expression is one of hurt. He's taken aback by your hostile attitude but he knows you're only being cautious. "We shouldn't have put your life in danger. We made a mistake. And I know we hurt you and I know you feel betrayed-"

"I don't  _feel_  betrayed, Rogers," You snap harshly, your grip on your bags growing tight. "I  _was_  betrayed."

"No. We didn't do this to hurt you. We didn't betray you. We-" Steve falls short of words. 

Your anger boils over your hurt but you keep your expression relaxed. Your eyes, however, are ablaze with fury and hide nothing. "I forgive you for what you did. I know you had the team's best interest in mind. And I would have done the same for someone I care about. But don't you dare try and tell me that you actually give a shit about me-"

"Don't say another word," Steve orders suddenly, his voice dropping low. "Okay? Don't say another word."

His change in tone startles you and you find yourself backing up as he steps closer. "Rogers-"

"I don't want to hear another negative thing come out of your mouth. I hate it, (Y/n). I hate hearing you talk so low about yourself," He's frustrated. You can tell by the rough sound of his voice but there's also a softness, a sincerity in his words that confuses you. What the hell is he talking about? "I care about you, (Y/n). I do."

You swallow any emotion that tries to rise up inside you. "Yeah? You care about me?" You breathe out, "You sure have a funny way of showing it. You know what I think?" You step down towards him instead of away from him. "I think you are one twisted son of a bitch! Telling me you care about me- spending time with me like I actually mean something to you and then pulling something like this? I don't know what to do anymore! I don't know!"

Steve begins to shake his head and his frustrated expression melts into a softer, sadder look. He opens his mouth to explain or defend himself- you don't know which because you cut him off before he can say anything. 

"I _trusted_  you, Steve. I trusted you more than anyone," You cry out. "You are the only reason I've stayed."

Steve's eyebrows furrow. "What- what're you talking about?"

"I tried to stay away, Steve," Your strong voice breaks as you speak and your chest grows tight with all the tension in your body. It's getting hard to breathe, your voice is getting breathy. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten close. I knew I should have turned you down every-single-time you reached out to me. But I couldn't." Your lips quiver and you press them together tightly before speaking again. "I stayed- I don't know why. But I did."

The look in Steve's eyes tells you he's completely lost. He can't speak. He can't think. He can't move. 

"I'm not going to make that same mistake again," You say quietly. "Stay away from me."

Steve's helplessly lost blue eyes and frozen face are burned into your mind. You turn from him, determined to walk away this time: determined to stay strong. A million thoughts are running circles in your head, all of them pertaining to Steve, but you shut them out and walk stiffly up the stairs. Steve doesn't follow you. 

A part of you rejoices at the victory you've won. You managed to cut ties with Steve Rogers. For now at least. But another part of you is sickened and remorseful. Your chest aches with every slow intake of breath. 

_I'm safe. I'm safe now. It's better to be alone._

A headache begins to rise, adding to your pain and exhale a deep sigh when you reach the top of the stairs. The main room is empty but you can hear Clint and Natasha's voices in the kitchen. You almost want to stop and say goodbye to Clint before you leave but you feel too low to even talk anymore. Maybe it was best you stay away from everyone. Including Clint. It feels like you've already lost him anyway. It was a happy reunion but things aren't the same for you two. 

It is better to be alone, isn't it? No one to hurt and no one to hurt you?

Or is it a mistake to push them away? Do you really want to be alone again?

You squeeze your eyes shut and block your thoughts out as you head for the elevator. "Take me down J.A.R.V.I.S."

 **"You still haven't figured out how to use the elevator?"** J.A.R.V.I.S. asks suddenly as the doors close. 

"Don't sass me," You say as you look up at the air, not really sure where to look as you talk back to him. 

 **"It seems to me like you're a bit...bossy."**  

You blink and your mouth opens but no words come out. You sputter and crack a proud smile. "J.A.R.V.I.S., I think you've been spending too much time with me. You're starting to sound like me. Or maybe you just take after Tony."

 **"I do enjoy your company,"** The AI confesses. 

The elevator comes to a stop and the metal doors slide open quietly. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of Happy, patiently waiting to get in the elevator with a handful of clothes that look as if they've come from the dry cleaning. 

"Wh- Happy. It's- good to see you again?" You say slowly as you step out of the elevator. 

"Hold the door for me, would you, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Happy asks the AI before turning to you with a casual half-smile. "Good to see you too, missssss-"   "(Y/n)."   "Right. Yes, miss (Y/n). I apologize."

You cock an eyebrow at him. "You do Stark's dry cleaning?" 

"Someone has to," Happy sighs, "That man is a mess. I do his laundry too. The last time he tried to use the washer he used dish soap instead of laundry detergent. Can you believe him? Why on earth would he ever use  _dish soap_?"

You smirk at him and keep yourself from laughing, knowing it would hurt like hell. You step out of the elevator and let Happy inside. "I don't know but I'm definitely going to ask him about that sometime. See you around, Happy."

"See you," He says with a small wave goodbye before the elevator doors shut. 

You sigh softly and turn to head for the door. Maybe Happy and J.A.R.V.I.S. are acceptable "friends".

The door opens wide and a bitter cold breeze rushes in, sending a shiver up your spine that leaves goosebumps behind. The hair on the back of your neck sticks up and you shudder as you step into the cold. It's only when you begin walking down the street that you realize it's just barely snowing. Flurries fall from the sky and fill the empty air. The clouds hide the blue sky and all around you people in coats and scarves walk the streets. You suddenly feel very underdressed. 

Deciding it's best to take a cab instead of freezing to death, you reach into your bag and pull out your leather jacket and slip it on. You then feel around for your wallet and stuff it in one of the pockets before hailing a cab. 

It's late November. Before long it will be December and you'll have to keep the fireplace running almost every day. The snow continues to fall gently from the sky as the cab driver takes you to your apartment. You thought you might have felt comfort heading home and being away from the tower but the closer you get to your block the sicker you feel. 

Bucky is gone. You have nothing to go home to. Nothing to look forward to anymore. 

A wave of depression washes over you when the cab stops and you're forced to get out of the car. You hold on tightly to your bag of clothes and the brown paper bag that holds your last chocolate muffin. You pay the cab what you owe and stand motionlessly on the sidewalk. The cab takes off down the street and you tell yourself it's time to go inside but you can't move. What's the point of going inside? You might as well go stay anywhere else. A hotel, a motel, an inn. 

This place isn't home anymore. Not without Bucky. 

The cold nipping at your bare face and ears instinctively makes you move for the door as if it had pushed you itself. You reach for your wallet once more to get your key but you stop when you notice the doorknob has no frost or fog on it from the cold. Your eyebrows furrow and you touch it carefully. The doorknob is wet from the melted frost. 

You think nothing of it and turn the knob. The door opens with a click and you look at it suspiciously. You could have sworn you locked the door before you left. Shrugging it off, you step inside out of the cold and shudder. Your apartment is just as cold- if not colder- than it was outside. The door closes behind you. You don't bother to take your shoes off but you set the bags on the bar of the kitchen island and look at the apartment. This is not home anymore. 

 This apartment used to be filled with warmth and bright colors that surrounded you and gave you comfort. Now the warmth has left, replaced by the chilling reality of loneliness, and the bright colors you saw are faded and dull. You don't feel comfort anymore. In fact, there's something about it that's unsettling. The atmosphere feels different. 

You notice the curtains have been pulled over the windows and your heart begins to beat faster at an unsteady pace. A creak at the top of the stairs sends your heart leaping into your throat. Someone's here. And it's not Bucky. 

"This is quite the homey apartment," A voice above the stairs calls out to you. 

His voice is bone chilling. You freeze in your place, your feet glued to the wooden floor. Your fists clench tightly, knuckles turning white. Your throat tightens and your breath is getting hard to catch. You know who stands at the top of the stairs. But you pray that he's not there. You pray that it's your mind playing tricks on you. You can't face him. 

"What made you settle?" His voice is scratchy and rough, a low rumble in his throat. 

You swallow the breath that has caught in your throat and close your eyes. It's real. And you have to face it. You stiffly turn to your left and drag your gaze across the floor before finally looking up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Word has been going around that you're working for the Avengers." 

Strucker smirks as he says this. You're trying to stay calm. You're trying so fucking hard to stay calm but all you can think about is your future:  _gone_. Your face remains emotionless but your eyes are flickering with vulnerability and fear. 

"What do you want from me, Strucker? I no longer work for HYDRA- and neither do you. HYDRA is  **dead**."

His smirk only grows. He steps forward and slowly- so slowly- he descends on the stairs. You feel your body shaking. Your chest is throbbing in pain. The quick beating of your heart is too much for it to handle. You want to shrivel under his gaze. His eyes are dull and void, almost as if they lack life. You had been expecting Brock Rumlow but you feel more terror in knowing that Strucker is the one standing before you. He is much more dangerous. 

"HYDRA...is not dead," he says in a low voice. 

He stands in front of you, inches away now, but you know that it's best to stay where you are. "Bullshit. HYDRA fell the moment S.H.I.E.L.D. did. Neither of them survived. You're insane if you think HYDRA could live."

A grin splits his crooked lips and you grimace at the sight of it. "You think S.H.I.E.L.D. fell?" You mask your confusion and look at him carefully. He takes your silence as an answer and speaks once again. "S.H.I.E.L.D.. HYDRA. They both live and operate. Maybe not as they did before. But they do. I'm surprised your hero friends didn't tell you."

Your eyebrows knit together. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is still operating?"

"HYDRA too. There are so many of us. We are growing, (Y/n). And as long as we live, HYDRA will live."

"As long as I live," You snap, "I'm going to make sure that HYDRA is destroyed. Once and for all."

Strucker grows quiet for a moment. You take a step back but let your body relax. You have to keep your fear under control. You must keep the situation under control. You don't know where this is going to lead. 

"I know you're working for the Avengers," He says slowly. There's a gleam in his eyes that tells you he has something devious in mind. "And I know that they've been playing you like their little chess piece."

You glare at him dangerously. "I am controlled by  _no one_."

His lips twitch but he doesn't quite smile. "I want to make you a deal."

Your eyes narrow. "I don't want anything to do with you."

"If you do this for me. I can guarantee your freedom. And you can live the life you always wanted."

You stare at Strucker in silence. His eyes may be vacant but you can tell there is no fault in what he says. He's being sincere. Never-the-less, you shake your head. "Leave," You say with a newfound strength. "Now."

"All I need is for you to leak information to me."

For a moment, you aren't sure you heard him right. Strucker wants you to be his mole. Just like Natasha suggested you were. You ready yourself to say a powerful 'no' but your thoughts stop you. "Information on what?"

"The Avengers. Their current missions and mission plans. Why, when, and how. What they have planned for the future of HYDRA, for S.H.I.E.L.D- even for the world." He dares to take another step towards you. "You may have lost trust in them but you can still win their trust. You can tear the Avengers apart from the inside out. I need you."

Just like HYDRA destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D.. The thought of even working for HYDRA again repulses you. HYDRA is nothing but hatred and corruption. Evil. You were a part of it once. You will never be a part of it again. 

"You need me?" You say suddenly. "How pathetic."

In an instance, Strucker grabs you by your neck. He drives you backward and slams you into the windows. There's a quiet crack in the glass and you feel your back press into it. Pain shoots through your body and shakes your chest. You grip onto his arm, hand, then wrist, trying to get your neck free. The curtains pull and shake as you press against them.

"Pathetic?" He breathes out venomously. "You speak to me as if you don't comprehend the power I hold over you."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Everything hurts. Your mind is screaming, your chest is on fire, your throat is burning. "You may have gotten away," Strucker growls out, pressing his fingertips deeper into the skin on your neck. "But I still hold your strings. I still control you. You are HYDRA's puppet. And as long as I want you, you will never be free."

Strucker's hand loosens on your neck and he yanks you to the side roughly, throwing you on the floor. "If you don't do this for me, I'll make sure that HYDRA is always there, lurking in the water, ready to pull you back in."

You gasp and cough as the cold air passes through your throat and stings your lungs. Your chest aches with every heave of breath you take in. You roll over slowly onto your side and hold yourself up with one hand and touch your neck with the other. You look up at Strucker with glassy, tear-filled eyes. Strucker looks back and there is nothing but hatred in his. 

"What choice do you have?" Strucker asks you softly. You hate the way he tries to make himself sound innocent and approachable. "Of course, if you don't want to stay here and work for me...I can always take you with me."

You swallow thickly and your throat stings as it travels down through it. Your hand remains around your neck, your fingertips gently resting over the same places where Strucker's had dug into your skin. You stare up at him, unable to move, unable to take in enough air to respond. He smirks at you as you turn away and hang your head. 

If you went with him, you don't even want to begin to imagine what he might do. Brainwashing. Torture. Pain.

"This mission will be finished before winter's end," He mutters as he stands up. "And it ends in Sokovia."

"So-kovia," You breathe out, "What lies in-n S-Sokovia."

"I'm not telling you anything until I know you stand with HYDRA," Strucker says in a low voice. He twists and cocks his neck and then begins to make his way towards the door. "Our base in Colorado is still in the process of evacuation. I need you to contact me when the Avengers decide to attack. That way the HYDRA troops are long gone before they arrive."

You close your eyes at the pain that is surging through you. Are you really going to go through with this?

"I'll screw with Stark's tech so he gets feedback that there's movement in the base. I'll have more tasks for you but for now, that's all I need," He continues quietly as he stands in front of the door. "I'll send someone to meet with you from now on. I need to get back to work." You hear the door open and you lift your head, looking up at him. 

"Oh," He stops suddenly, a smirk widening on his face as he looks back at you once more. "And don't think about telling the Avengers about this meeting either. I would know. And I think you know the consequences."

He turns around with nothing more to say and leaves silently. The door closes behind him and you are left on the floor of your apartment disheveled and paralyzed by fear. You had nightmares that this day would come. You closed a door two years ago when you left HYDRA. That door has remained closed, but another one has opened. Brock Rumlow was one threat. But Wolfgang von Strucker is more powerful and deadly than him. You're afraid this a door that may never close. 

 _"You're free, (Y/n). HYDRA has nothing on you,"_ Bucky's soothing voice plays through your mind. _"Even if they used force I know you would never go back. Your body is yours, your mind is yours, and no one can take that away from you."_

You close your eyes and lean forward to press your head against the cold wood floor. You are not a broken puppet on strings. You will not let HYDRA control you once more. Things can still go your way. Just as HYDRA wants to destroy the Avengers apart from the inside, you will destroy HYDRA from the inside. While you play spy for HYDRA you will play spy for the Avengers. Even if they won't know that you're spying for either. This is your option. 

This is a risky but extremely rare opportunity. You can destroy HYDRA from the inside. 

In your head, it seems wrong. The Avengers trust you now. You've cleared your name. It feels wrong to be playing both sides. If Steve found out you were helping HYDRA, would he believe that you did it for them? Would he believe that you did it to destroy HYDRA and not the Avengers? Now, your future is out of your hands. 

You're afraid that no matter what you do, you will never be free.

You had planned to live a peaceful and happy life. The past two years you've spent recovering mean nothing to you now. They were meaningless. All of your progress was destroyed. So it's your turn to destroy HYDRA's progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! A chapter update on the actual deadline! Proud of me yet?
> 
> At last, we have hit the initial plot. The biggest game of trust and betrayal that the reader will ever experience. What do you think it will end with?
> 
> Trust or betrayal?


	27. Resurfacing

Tony fumbles with the tiny tracking device in hands. The metal surface is cool in contrast to the warmth of his fingertips. He holds it with two fingers and looks at closely, his brown eyes dazed and unblinking. Steve glances over at him curiously from where he leans against the lab desk Tony sits at. He watches as Tony stares at the device and then finally places it in his palm. Steve assumes Tony is going to set it down but instead, he lets it fall from his hand onto the floor. 

Tony then stands up from the desk, steps on it, and walks towards the other lab desk. Maria Hill stands by the stairs, following Tony with her eyes. The three of them have been sitting in silence for a while now. 

"We have no leads on Brock Rumlow," Tony states finally, pulling up multiple holograms. "We think he's going to leave the country soon. He doesn't stay in one place very long. We haven't encountered him personally since our first mission."

"And Rumlow is in charge of this base you believe is in Siberia? He's the one gathering stray mechanics?" Maria asks. 

Steve nods slowly but doesn't take his eyes off the floor. "The first mechanic we captured in Italy claims Rumlow told him we would arrive at his casino. We believe this was Rumlow's first attempt at getting a hold of (Y/n) but his motives are still unknown and we haven't caught Rumlow around any other mechanics since then."

"He's stopped robbing police stations in other countries. It may be that he finally has everything he needs to go through with whatever he has planned for HYDRA." Maria suggests as she walks towards Tony. 

"We still have no location on that base in Siberia. It's like it doesn't exist." Tony sighs. 

Maria glances between the holograms. One holds information on every location Rumlow has been whereas another holds what he has stolen and the mercenaries and HYDRA agents he has recruited to work with him. She notices on a smaller hologram that your x-ray is pulled up along with a map that has the words  _'subject_ _not found'_  plastered on the screen. 

"You decided to remove the tracker from her body," Maria mentions as she looks back at Steve curiously.

"We never should have agreed to it in her in the first place," Tony mumbles. 

Steve still doesn't look up from the floor. He plays with hands, running his thumb over the palm of his other hand. "We discovered that someone from HYDRA managed to tap into the device. Her location was compromised. She told Clint a few HYDRA operatives showed up at the apartment, wanting to take her with them but she fended them off and no one has been by since," His hands fall still. "The tracker was a mistake. So is keeping a cell in the Raft saved."

"You want to revoke your decision on the cell?" Maria asks, arching an eyebrow at him. 

"And the alternate decision of handing her over to Fury," Steve says firmly. He's determined to make things right. He won't tell you about either of these original decisions but he will do away with them. 

"Finally, a  _good_  decision," Tony groans, sifting through to a different file on one of the holograms. "Your lack of trust didn't just effect her. It affected the whole team- hell, even the mission. But now that we're all on the same page and won't have to worry about anything bad within the team we can focus on the bad outside the team."

Steve stands up as well and looks over at Maria and Tony, his hands sinking into his pockets. "We need to stop him before he leaves the country again. Has there been any more movement in Siberia?"

"None," Tony says with a shake of his head. He reaches over on the left side of the desk past a box of open donuts and reaches for his mug. "But if you're right and he has everything he needs to head back to that base in Siberia we should catch some movement at any time. I don't know why he hasn't left already." 

"Maybe he's waiting for something," Maria says casually as she reaches for her bag which sits on the desk. 

Tony shrugs and raises his mug to his lips but stops abruptly when he realizes he grabbed a mug full of cold coffee from last night. He then reaches back over and grabs another one from this morning, pleased when he finds its still hot. 

"What about (Y/n)?" Maria asks suddenly, looking back over at Steve with curious eyes. "You won't have eyes on her anymore. Are you positive you can trust her? It's hard to believe Rumlow has only been ahead of us because the team has been predictable. Was there no suspicious activity that raised any alarms in your heads?"

Tony exhales through his nose and smirks in amusement. "Suspicious? The girl barely goes anywhere and when she does it's either out to eat or to the gym. And I can understand why. Food is good but you've gotta work it off."

"HYDRA is smart and it's time we stop underestimating them," Steve says. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and walks towards them both. "We made that mistake before and we lost S.H.I.E.L.D. to it. (Y/n) has nothing to do with HYDRA. And she wants nothing to do with them either. They treated her just as badly as they did Bucky."

Tony glances at Steve as he says this but chooses to bite his tongue instead of saying something. Instead, he turns the other way and takes another long sip of his coffee. Maria glances between the two and then sighs. 

"If things get out of control, call us," She tells Steve before making her way to the elevator. 

"And by 'things' you mean (Y/n)," Tony mutters into his coffee mug. 

Steve catches his tone and gives him a sharp look as Maria enters the elevator. Tony feels his gaze but continues to pay no mind to him, closing most of the holograms. The only few he leaves up are on you. Pictures appear on the left, all of them from the files Clint and Natasha collected on their last mission. In the middle are two separate holograms stacked on top of each other. The one on top holds past information and the one below it holds newer information. 

And finally, on the right, is your x-ray. Tracker free. 

"She's never going to trust us," Tony says bitterly as he turns and glances at Steve. 

"She will," Steve sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "We just need to give her time. Space."

"Space, huh?" Tony repeats doubtfully. "Time. How much time?"

"As much as she needs." 

Steve looks at the ground again, his argument with you the day before resurfacing in his thoughts. When you left the tower you seemed determined to get as far away from him as possible. But he still refuses to believe that's what you really want. You were angry- upset- and you had every reason to be. But Steve just can't believe your words. 

That night he had walked you home in the rain and stayed with you in your apartment, he saw a side of you he thought he would see. You were vulnerable. He saw your loneliness, your longing, and your scars. He had seen a part of you that changed his image of you forever. You were happy to have him and the team. You wanted a bigger part in the mission. You wanted to stay with them and Steve wanted it to. If only the phone hadn't of rang when it did. 

He can't help but wonder if he would have seen you clearly for the first time. No facade, no distance, no secrets. Just you. 

"You know," Tony speaks up suddenly, waving the holograms away with his hand. "I thought you cared about her." He says finally, shoving his hands into pockets of his sweatpants as he turns to face Steve. "Guess I was wrong."

"I care about everyone on this team-" Steve begins to object. 

"You know what I mean, Cap," Tony says as he lowers his chin and raises his eyebrows. 

Steve shifts his weight and shuffles his feet, feeling the need to adjust the collar of his button up. Tony rolls his eyes and turns back again but only to grab his coffee. Tony walks past him and Steve opens his mouth to speak, his lips forming words that don't come out. He's struggling to say something but Tony doesn't wait for him to say it.

Tony stops at the door and reaches out to press the button to open it when a crime alert goes off. He turns around swiftly and looks at the new hologram that has appeared at his desk. Steve stocks toward it at stares at it in surprise. Tony steps closer and catches the map that has appeared on the screen. "What's going on?" He asks abruptly. 

"It's one of Reid's high tech facilities, here in New York," Steve replies, eyebrows furrowing as he watches a red dot flash on the location of it. "It's been broken into. Should we let the police handle it?" He asks, looking back at him. 

"J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn't let trivial missions come through. This alert must serious," Tony says as he steps beside Steve and pulls up another hologram. "Show me what's going on down there. J.A.R.V.I.S."

A close up picture appears on the new hologram, taken by security surveillance cameras outside the building. In the picture, a black van has smashed into the gate entrance of the facility. Dead security guards lay scattered outside. Men in black, protected by armor, march right into the courtyard. The time stamp is the current time on the clock. 

"It's Rumlow," Steve growls out, immediately turning his back on the screen. He strides towards the other side of the lab where everyone's suits remain behind locked steel doors. "Open my door, J.A.R.V.I.S."

Another alert goes off, adding on to the sound of the first alarm. "Shit," Tony breathes, "He blew a hole in the building."

Hearing this, Steve hastily steps inside the space where his costume is and lets the door close behind him. He begins undressing immediately but takes the time to pull his phone out of his pocket. He doesn't hesitate to dial your number. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys would not believe the shit I'm going through. People are crazy. 
> 
> Time is really hard for me to spare lately but hopefully when things cool down I'll be back on track. I haven't been home a lot. I apologize for the short chapter.
> 
> You can expect another update sometime this week! xo


	28. Author's Note

Hey guys! It's me. Jocelyn. Your lovely author. 

I'm afraid I have some bad news. 

Due to some unforeseen events, I won't be updating for a while. Hopefully it won't be too long. I'll try and get a chapter out this following week but after that I'll be gone. 

I recently moved to Colorado. And due to family conflict after my mother's death I have lost contact with my mom's side. I left behind my friends and my boyfriend and everyone who felt like family. So I'm not well right now. 

Once I get back up on my feet and settled in I'll post more chapters! So no, this story is not complete. But it will be. 

I'm incredibly sorry for the delay. 

Wish me luck. I love you guys. Thank you for reading! 


	29. Back in Action

Your phone rings at your bedside and you furrow your eyebrows at the sound. Your closed eyes squeeze shut and you roll over in bed, face down in the pillow. You didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Four hours at most. You've tried to make up for it by sleeping in late but with no curtains on the windows and the city beyond your walls, it's hard to. 

Your chest aches still but it's not as bad as it did yesterday. You'd kill for some painkillers right about now. Maybe you can score a bottle from a drug dealer or something. You can't exactly go see a doctor. In fact, after last night, you're considering sleeping pills too. On the upside, you would get sleep but on the downside, you wouldn't be able to wake up from your nightmares. You personally prefer not sleeping at all over sleeping and having nightmares.

When your phone keeps ringing you sigh heavily and reach over without looking. You slide the answer button over and put the phone to your ears. The only few people that have your number are those on the team. It must be important. 

"Hello?" You answer tiredly, voice muffled by the pillow. 

 _"(Y/n),_ " Steve replies almost immediately.  _"I've been trying to get a hold of you for seven minutes now."_

"What's going on?" You ask, lifting your head curiously when you hear the sound of his motorcycle engine. 

_"I'm on my way to get you. Rumlow's in New York. He just broke into one of Reid's facilities."_

You sit up instantly, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. Steve is almost here and you're not dressed and Rumlow is in New York. You have another lead, right at this very second, and you're in your underwear. "Shit," You breathe out as you walk towards your dresser. "How close are you? We need to hurry." You pull out your guns and arsenal first. 

 _"I'm outside the apartment,"_  He says anxiously,  _"Are you ready?"_

Definitely not. "Yes, I'll be down in a second," You lie flippantly as hang up and throw the phone on the bed.

You pull a pair of leggings out of your drawers and slip them on carelessly. You don't care about what you wear at this point. You just need to hurry and hop on that motorcycle waiting for you downstairs. As you fumble with your arsenal belt you walk down the stairs and head for the door. As quickly as you can you put on a pair of Nike tennis shoes. 

Before you leave you quickly scramble into the kitchen and pop four Advil pills in your mouth. You hurriedly grab a glass from a cabinet and fill it up with water from the sink before swallowing it with the pills. 

Your throat aches even when you swallow. Even little movements like swallowing and turning your head cause twinges of pain to run through your neck. Sometimes it's even a little hard to breathe or your breathing sounds abnormal. Your bruises from last night are fresh and have since darkened but in such a rush you doubt Steve will notice.

When you open the door of your apartment and step out into the light you're greeted by the cold wind and grey skies of fall. Steve sits on his motorcycle by the sidewalk, waiting anxiously. When he notices you're outside he raises his eyes and motions for you to hurry. "We have to go now," He says as you hurriedly throw yourself onto the back of the bike. 

"So let's go!" You cry, your voice sounding breathy and harsh. "This is the greatest lead we've had on him in weeks."

Steve wastes no time in revving up the bike and taking off down the street. You hide your face in his back and hold onto him tightly. You forgot how cold it's been lately but even if you had thrown on a coat, it just would have made it harder for you to fight. You pull back from Steve for a moment and admire his suit. Not that you're interested in one of your own- you just admire how easy it is for him to slip something appropriate for missions on when he needs to. 

The cold air makes your eyes water and as it passes through your throat and into your lungs it stings but not enough for you to focus too much on it. You're not worried about pulling a stitch or being in too much pain to fight. Once your focus is locked in on a target, nothing else matters. You feel nothing but persistence. 

You and Steve fly through the city, passing cars every now and then to get through faster. Nobody seems to mind, seeing as he is Captain American in all his glory, suit and all. The engine is too loud to talk about, especially at the speed you're going, so there's no exchange of words on your way to the facility. Block by block, turn by turn, you grow closer towards the chaos. You guess something must have exploded because a dark cloud of smoke rises above skyscrapers and buildings. 

When Steve turns the last corner on a four-way intersection that has is near empty the two of you arrive on the street that takes you straight towards the facility. Smoke rises from a few fires that remain below the entry of a giant hole that has been blown into the front door of the facility. Dead guards lie scattered outside in the courtyard and the front entrance gate lies in shambles from when you assume they smashed a vehicle into the gate to get in. 

As you grow closer, Steve begins to slow down. "They must be inside already!" You say as you look around. 

"Not all of them," Steve hisses, "Hand me my shield!"

You notice what he has noticed and your eyes widen. Four men in black suits with protective armor emerge from the hole in the building, machine guns raised. As quickly as you can you twist around and reach for Steve's shield which is strapped to the back of his motorcycle. Steve glances over his shoulder at you but doesn't rush you as you both approach the entrance. Just as you hand Steve his shield and he places it at the front of his bike, the armed men open fire. 

Bullet after bullet ricochets off Steve's shield. You tighten your arms around his waist and keep yourself pressed against him, looking over his shoulder at what's going on without exposing your head to the fire. 

"You might want to hold on just a little tighter," Steve warns you as he reaches forward for his shield. 

You open your mouth to stop him from removing the shield but he throws it before you can even get a word out. Steve kicks the speed up and you watch in awe as his shield hits one man and then knocks out another. As it bounces off a couple other surfaces Steve hits the brakes on the bike and it slides sideways. "Catch it!" Steve yells at you.

His order surprises you and although there's a part of you that doesn't want to take the risk of falling off, you do what he says. As the shield flies towards you, you brace yourself for the impact and hold out both hands, ready to catch it. 

The force of the shield slamming into you almost sends you flying back but Steve catches you with one hand while the other steers the motorcycle away from the fire once again. Your wrists ache in protest of your decision and the shock of catching the shield sent waves of pain through your arms and back into your chest. You raise yourself up to bring your arm back for a powerful throw as Steve drives you towards the remaining two shooters. Now it's your turn to throw. 

After finding your balance with one hand on Steve's shoulder, you throw Steve's shield as hard and as fast as you can. It flies directly towards the man you aiming at and takes him out swiftly before bouncing off a wall and into the other guy. When the shield bounces back after hitting a wall inside the broken entrance, you catch it proudly. 

Steve skids the motorcycle to a stop and parks it just outside the hole that was once the entrance to Reid's facility. Fire burns around you as you slide off your seat and step down. Steve gets off soon after you and turns around to reveal a wide grin. 

"I'm impressed," He tells you sincerely as you hand his shield back to him. 

His smile is so big and bright and you can't help but smile back. "I didn't think I could pull that off!" You confess. 

Steve's eyes soften and his grin falls into a small smile. God, it's so nice to your smile again. "You were in bed when I came to pick you up, weren't you?" He asks, glancing at your outfit in amusement. "Same clothes as yesterday."

"If I had a combat suit for the occasion I would have slipped it on," You shrug. 

"No you wouldn't have," Steve smirks. 

You arch an eyebrow at him, your smile growing. He's right. You wouldn't have. Not this time. You were in too big of a rush. Suddenly you remember what's happening. You got caught up in the moment working with him. Rumlow is inside this building and the two of you are here to stop him. You're not here to make conversation.

Your smile falls and you turn away from Steve, "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a looong time, but this story is not DEAD. Expect updates every Sunday, on the dot. 
> 
> Yes, I'm okay. Yes, I missed you too. Yes, I know this update is short butihopeyoustilllovemeimback


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